


Paralogue: 84 Ways to Date Sam Winchester

by 94BottlesOfSnapple



Series: 101 Ways [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Archangels, Family Bonding, Fluff and Angst, Gabriel Lives, Insecure Gabriel, M/M, Reality Bending, Some Humor, multiple AUs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2588822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/94BottlesOfSnapple/pseuds/94BottlesOfSnapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The missing middle chapters from 101 Ways to Date Sam Winchester.</p>
<p>In which Gabriel makes frivolous (according to his brothers) use of his all-powerful Archangel mojo to try and psych himself up to ask Sam Winchester on a date. All he needs is a little practice, after all. And, as usual with Gabriel, things spiral a bit out of control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monkey See, Monkey Do

**Author's Note:**

> Probably not my best chapter, but I've been under a lot of pressure lately and I've only just been able to buckle down and finish this. Please join me for a rollercoaster of goofy and not-so-goofy AUs!

Gabriel walked through the buzz of the crime scene in his well-pressed black suit, hands behind his back. He made a practice of not studying any one thing too carefully, but instead projecting an air of superiority. His eyesight far exceeded that of any human’s anyway, so it wasn’t as if he ever would need to lean in or squint unless he felt like doing so.

He cocked his head to the side as the diner’s bell jingled, and caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Right on time. Gabriel counted their steps. One. Two…

And on three, he spun in a graceful but understated arc to face them, to catch the startled looks in their eyes.

“Agents,” he greeted, flipping out an FBI badge with his left hand and offering his right to shake.

“Agent,” Dean replied gruffly with a barely-troubled brow, giving Gabriel’s hand a firm shake.

Sam pulled a face, so quick it was almost imperceptible, and shook Gabriel’s hand as well.

“Agent,” he repeated.

Gabriel’s lips quirked up. Sam’s mouth had closed around the words uncomfortably, as if it had been said once too many times and he was no longer precisely sure it was a real word. The archangel swung an arm out a bit to gesture to the scene around them.

“As you can see, the local forensic team is still working on gathering evidence from the scene,” he explained. “But from a precursory examination, they have suggested the victim’s death was the work of a wild animal. Claw and bite marks on the neck and chest area. Heart missing. It’s also a robbery, the cash register’s empty.”

Gabriel feigned looking forward at the scene, but from the edge of his vision he could see Sam and Dean giving each other a meaningful look. Oh Dad, were those muttonheads the cutest. Werewolf, they were surely thinking. But they had no idea the crazy case Gabriel’s creative mind had in store for them. Not one single clue.

“Thank you for the update, Agent…” Sam said calmly, fishing for a name.

“Page,” he replied. “You must be Agents Forester and Brady. My superior told me you’d be coming.”

The boys shared another absolutely adorable and naïve brotherly mind-meld glance. Dean’s posture relaxed first, if only slightly, and Sam followed his lead. Gabriel let a little smirk roll over his lips. He followed them around the scene, commenting on anything that seemed out of place.

“Witnesses?” Dean asked gruffly.

Gabriel shook his head.

“Nada.”

“Security tapes?” Sam suggested, tilting his head to motion to the slightly-conspicuous camera in the corner of the diner.

Gabriel smirked. Running a hand through his golden-brown hair, he nodded.

“You’ll have to see those for yourselves, I think,” he said cryptically. “There’ll be a copy of them back at the precinct.”

The two hunters nodded, gave the diner a last once-over, and turned to go. Placing his hands behind his back, Gabriel sauntered after them. Of course, to be more inconspicuous, he needed a car. Either luckily or unluckily, the Winchesters had parked right next to him. Dean gave a little scoff at the beat-up blue Taurus, but Sam shot his brother a look that stopped him from commenting.

Gabriel just looked at them and shrugged before climbing into his car.

Of course, by the time the boys made it to the police station, the archangel was already there. There was no look of surprise on their faces, but it was likely because his car stood out so much in the small parking lot that there would have been no missing it.

“Officer Blake,” Gabriel said, gesturing, “these are my associates, Agents Forester and Brady. They’d like to look at the security footage now.”

Officer Blake adjusted her glasses, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she took in Sam and Dean. Gabriel couldn’t really blame her. The boys cut a nice figure in suits, though wearing one made Gabriel himself a bit uncomfortable. He was used to more casual, background-character clothes. But, when situations called for it, an archangel never backed down from a challenge.

“Uh, right this way, gentlemen,” Officer Blake managed at last, after Sam had given her a particularly soft, reassuring glance.

Gabriel tried to memorize the younger Winchester’s expression as the four of them walked to a viewing room. But Sam, as usual, was like a mirage. Always moving. Never quite the same. It was only the sound of Officer Blake opening the door that shook him out of his, admittedly sappy, thoughts. Back on the case, then.

As the security footage started up, both of the Winchesters leaned in. Gabriel, who already knew what they would see, leaned against the wall with one arm and tilted his head. The video feed was grayscale, a little fuzzy. To be expected for a cheap place like that. The diner, or what could be seen of it, was empty for several minutes. Then a man entered the screen: the victim. He began readying the diner for opening, unlocking the cash register, checking the grill.

Then, for a split second, there was a loud commotion.

The camera went dark.

Sam frowned and motioned Officer Blake closer.

“Can we get that last few seconds again?” he questioned.

“Sure thing!” she answered, but it apparently was something easier said than done.

Officer Blake spent three minutes fumbling with the remote and trying to get the feed to slow down or pause in the right place before Dean eased it from her hands and took over. The bespectacled cop stammered through an apology, but the boys were quick to reassure her that it was fine. Nodding along, Gabriel shot Officer Blake what he hoped was a comforting smile.

Sam and Dean’s gasps, though subtle, cut through the air. Gabriel pushed between them to get a good look. The video had been paused at a single frame. A woman’s face was pressed close to the lens, and as she grimaced in frustration, a set of long, needle-like teeth peeked out from beneath her upper lip. In the background, fuzzy, the victim had reared back from a second figure who stood with arms up.

“Someone needs to see a dentist,” Gabriel quipped, to cool the tension in the room.

Sam cleared his throat.

“Uh, officer, if you could give my… Associates and I, a uh, moment alone please?”

Officer Blake nodded and backed out of the room, eyes still locked on the television screen.

Once the door had clicked shut, the Winchesters turned to form a circle with Gabriel, though he noticed that they were more angled towards each other than him.

“A vamp?” Dean demanded, as if someone else would have an explanation for what they had all witnessed.

“Two,” Gabriel corrected, just to see what they would do.

Sam immediately shook his head.

“No, the posture of the one in the background… That didn’t look vampiric. Actually, it almost looked more like a werewolf. And… That would explain our vic’s missing heart.”

Dean pulled a face.

“What, we got some sorta whacked-up Twilight duo here? When have vampires and werewolves ever gotten on?” he demanded quietly.

“The real question,” Gabriel interrupted, “is how are we gonna catch these yahoos? We’ve only got one victim so far, so it isn’t like there’s a pattern to go on. Unless they got turned recently. Maybe Jack and Sally here knew each other before they went monster movie?”

Feeling Sam’s eyes on him was almost more than Gabriel could handle, for some reason. Even though he knew he was right, even though he knew the case inside and out because his brain had been the one to concoct it, there was a little squeamish part of his brain that worried Sam would think he was stupid.

“I’ll look up the town’s missing-person record,” the brunette volunteered. “You two can take the vic. If this guess is right _and_ they singled him out, it could be they knew _him_ before they were turned too.”

Dean and Gabriel glanced at each other, both clearly not very comfortable with that setup.

“Maybe we ought to introduce ourselves before we go Scooby-Doo?” the archangel said. “I’m Gabriel. Bobby sent me out on this one since I was closest.”

“Dean. And this is my brother Sam.”

“Ah, the famous Winchesters,” Gabriel teased, sending Sam a slight wink. “Nobody told me you were pretty.”

Dean grimaced, but Sam hid a half-laugh in his hand, pretending to clear his throat.

“ _Anyway_ ,” the older Winchester pressed.

It wasn’t hard to see the conundrum. Being the protective big bro, Dean didn’t want to leave Sam alone. He also, as a good hunter, didn’t want to leave a strange hunter to work an important half of the case without supervision. But, leaving someone he didn’t trust looking after dear Sammy probably wasn’t in the cards either. The trickster in Gabriel brought a teasing little smirk to his lips.

Sam tilted his head and studied his brother’s eyes for a moment.

“Or, uh… Gabriel could come with me?” he suggested.

Dean’s frown persisted.

“Sounds good to me, Sambo!” Gabriel said cheerfully, just to tease the green-eyed man. “… But I’m sure we can all research in the same place.”

With that compromise, the three of them ended up in one of the reading rooms at the town’s public library. Much to Dean’s apparent chagrin, Gabriel spent most of the time reading missing-person records over Sam’s shoulder.

“That looks like her doesn’t it?” he asked, jabbing a finger at Sam’s laptop screen.

Sam’s brow furrowed as he thought, then he nodded resolutely.

“Yeah, I think so. Jane Lott, disappeared three weeks ago. So we’re looking for anyone she might have known…”

Meanwhile, Dean started checking for connections between their victim, Don Bluff, and Jane Lott. It took another couple hours, but the three of them finally pieced together an approximation of the facts. Jane Lott had been employed at Bluff’s diner, until she missed one too many days at work and he fired her. The reason she had missed work was to look for her cousin, Jack Lott, who had disappeared into the woods a month and a half ago.

“So, Jack and Jane,” Dean said. “But now that they’ve whacked the shitty boss, where would they go?”

“They’ve got money now,” Sam pointed out. “Not much but…”

“Probably biding their time,” Gabriel added with a shrug. “Until they can get out without being recognized. Maybe Jack had a place in the woods?”

Sam glanced at Dean, and Dean shrugged.

“Couldn’t hurt to look.”

Which was admittedly a bit easy, but Gabriel wasn’t concerned with getting caught up in the details of the scenario. After all, the hunt itself wasn’t the point. He glanced at Sam, trying not to go too doe-eyed, what with Dean in the immediate vicinity.

Gabriel and the Winchesters prepared everything they’d need, silver bullets and machetes, and set off into the woods, around the area the Lotts had supposedly disappeared. It wasn’t long before they were set upon.

Teeth bared and snarling, Jane leapt at them from one side while Jack stalked out of the trees and tried to pen them in from the other. The hunters readied their weapons.

And then something dropped from above.

Sam was tackled, but didn’t fall. He did, however, drop his machete as he tried to rip pale hands off his throat. Another vampire.

“Sam!”

But Jack took advantage of Dean’s distraction and rushed him, knocking the hunter into the dirt. Jane lunged at Gabriel, the only one left standing, but he lopped her head off in one swing.

“Duck, Sam!” he ordered, and the brunette dropped, leaving the vampire on his back off-balance. Gabriel took her head off too.

By the time he’d turned back, Sam had already pulled Jack off Dean and shot him. The three of them looked around at each other, breathing hard, but not too much worse for wear.

“Thanks, Gabriel,” Sam said, breaking the odd silence.

“No problemo, gigantor.”

Gabriel could feel his vessel’s heart pounding like a drum, almost painfully, and had to resist the urge to massage the area of his chest just over it. Even though it wasn’t real per se… Seeing even an illusionary Sam in danger was something terrifying. Gabriel wasn’t sure how he had ever managed to put him in danger of his own volition. But that had been years ago.

Dean gave a nod and the three of them headed out.

Gabriel found himself actually surprised when, as he opened the driver’s side door to the Impala, Dean reached back for a handshake. He shook the hunter’s callused hand a bit tentatively, but offered a pleased smile.

“We’ll stick around another day,” Dean said. “In case we missed any more.”

Then he slid into the car, but Sam stayed for a moment longer.

“Really. Thanks, for having my back,” the brunette said again.

The earnest look in his eyes was enough to send a pleasant chill down Gabriel’s spine. He wetted his lips absently and nodded.

“Couldn’t let that pretty face get hurt,” the archangel joked.

Sam held out a hand. The thought of shaking it was both painful and sharp with longing. Gabriel stuffed his hands in his pockets and smiled as best he could. Sam furrowed his brow, eyes dimming a little, and dropped his arm.

He had just turned towards the passenger-side door when Gabriel cleared his throat.

With a gentle grip, Gabriel took Sam’s right arm, the sleeve already helpfully rolled to expose the brunette’s very nice forearms. With the ticklish press of ballpoint pen, Gabriel jotted down a number.

“You can reach me there. If you… Ever need anything. Alright, Sambo?”

Gabriel grinned a little, and pressed a kiss to Sam’s wide palm before releasing him.

The look in his hazel eyes was indecipherable, but his lips lifted a little and Gabriel decided to be optimistic. Then, Sam got in the Impala and rode away with his brother. Gabriel watched the black car disappear over a hill. He shook his head, to clear it.

Then, with the slightest flourish, he snapped his fingers.


	2. Fruity Booze and Fruity Dudes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel pops in on 5x03, where Sam Winchester appears to be going by the name of "Keith". Bar patrons can be rude.  
> Bartender AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be gentle with me, I'm still recovering from Episode 200.

Gabriel, eyes closed, took in a deep breath.

Old shoes and alcoholism— _Wait, wrong script_.

But the scent of alcohol was definitely buzzing in the air. The archangel blinked his golden eyes open slowly, tilted his head, and took stock of the place.

A fairly nice bar, clean, large. TV high on the wall, dart board to one side. Gabriel was sitting in a chair at a table by himself, facing the direction of the bar, where Sam Winchester polished a whiskey tumbler. His hair was slicked back from his face, and he wore a wrinkled, plain-color button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A slow smile spread over Gabriel’s lips, and he leaned his chin on his fist.

“Cute.”

“What’s cute?”

Despite himself, Gabriel jerked forward, slamming his hand down onto the table with a loud enough crack that hazel eyes immediately locked on him. Taking a deep, unnecessary but infinitely calming breath, the archangel glanced to his right.

“So?” the young woman repeated, wiping down the empty table next to him. “What’s cute?”

Gabriel downed the half-glass of water sitting in front of him and wet his lips.

“Your bartender,” he answered roughly, taking a glance to see if Sam was still staring.

Thankfully, the big lug had gone back to cleaning glasses. The woman laughed.

“Well, you’re not wrong. Dunno if Keith swings your way, though,” she commented, slinging the towel over her shoulder.

“Trust me cupcake,” Gabriel said, waggling his eyebrows, “everybody swings my way.”

But, Gabriel thought, he did feel suddenly in need of a drink of the brain-inhibiting sort. He stood and swaggered up to the bar. No one else was up there when he reached it, and he slapped his palms down flat both to get Sam’s attention and to press out the tension from his shoulders.

Sam turned towards him, and his big knuckles went white around the pint glass he was cleaning.

“ _You_.”

The hard set of Sam’s jaw and the sharpness of his gaze, surprisingly, made Gabriel relax more than anything. He looked up at Sam through his lashes and shot him a tilted smile.

“Don’t be like that, Sambo. I’m just here for a drink, that’s all,” he said with an innocent shrug. “No tricks. Scout’s honor.”

The brunette all but slammed the clean glass back into place. Then he nodded tersely.

“Fine. I’m not hunting anyway. What do you want?”

Gabriel frowned, then tapped a round fingertip into his lower lip, tilting his head to the side just so. Sam’s expression was flat and impatient. He kept glancing out at the bar as if willing someone else to come up, but no one did.

“The fruitiest cocktail you’ve got on the menu,” Gabriel chirped at last, plopping down on a barstool and looking all too pleased with himself.

Sam scoffed, lips twitching up before they were schooled back into a frown.

“Should have known. Trickster sweet tooth.”

The archangel just grinned, tapping the bartop with his knuckles. Sam frowned.

“Can you… Not do that?” he asked, mixing something bright pink and something clear into a bell-shaped cocktail glass.

“I could,” Gabriel relented. “But what would it get me?”

“ _Not_ a stake through your chest?”

Gabriel laughed aloud, unconcerned with anyone else in the bar but Sam.

“And we all know how well that’s worked for you,” he teased, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Third time’s the charm?” Sam suggested through his teeth, setting the cocktail in front of Gabriel gently.

The archangel looked down at the glass, bedecked with both a straw and a tiny, whimsical yellow umbrella. He sniffed carefully, then drew the straw to his lips.

“Not poisoned is it?” he asked, then took a quick sip before Sam could even answer.

“Not unless you’re allergic to strawberry liqueur,” the brunette commented, leaning his elbow on the bartop and his head on his palm to meet Gabriel’s eyes better.

The archangel glanced up and found himself unexpectedly dazzled, even after so many run-throughs, so many scenarios. But, he justified to himself, ducking his head back down and taking a quick pull of sugar-rich strawberry-flavored cocktail from the straw, each Sam felt different somehow.

“Hey,” Sam muttered, shooting glances out at the crowd.

“Yeah, gigantor?”

“I’ve uh… I’ve been going by Keith around here, alright?” the brunette said.

“Undercover, huh?” the archangel asked him, holding up a finger gun and smirking.

“Something like that.”

“Alrighty then, Keith it is. … Huh. Keith. You don’t look like a Keith, you know,” said Gabriel, poutily taking another sip of his drink. “What kind of nicknames for Keith even are there…? Keithy, maybe, but that’s… Ugh.”

Sam just looked at him like he was crazy. Gabriel huffed, pulling away from his drink and crossing his arms over his chest.

“What?” the archangel demanded, rolling his golden eyes. “You can’t just slap a ‘y’ on the end of a name and call it a proper nickname, gigantor.”

“Why are you so worried about a ‘proper nickname’ in the first place?” Sam questioned, refilling a couple of beers from various taps for the waitress who had been cleaning tables before to take back to some customers.

“It’s how I show my love,” said Gabriel decisively before taking a long drink so that Sam’s sharp, probing glance couldn’t compel him to say more.

It was then that a man in a suit bustled up and ordered some whiskey, giving Gabriel a look down his nose. The archangel met his superior stare flatly, let his eyes blaze hot and gold for a moment, a burning look he had mastered after watching Michael for millennia, and flipped the suit monkey the bird.

“Ass,” the man spat, slapping a few bills on the counter.

“If you think mine is nice, you should see his,” said Gabriel, lifting his cocktail glass and gesturing to Sam with it.

The guy in the suit gave Sam a look, disapproving, but as if to also ascertain if the bartender seemed to be as appallingly _homosexual_ as the short guy on the barstool. Not that that was even a thing, because Gabriel was bi just like good old Dad intended thank you very much.

After picking up on Sam’s very easily-read annoyance at Gabriel, Suit Guy decided he was safe.

“It’s a shame you have to put up with people _like that_ ,” he said, voice carefully clear and punctuated.

Sam’s head tilted just slightly, as if he thought he might have misheard.

“How do you mean?” the brunette asked, jaw steeling a bit as he picked up on the significant emphasis of the customer’s words.

The man just lifted his brows and said nothing.

Sam’s responding glance was flat and professional, and Gabriel noticed he handled the man’s money as little as possible. After a return of change that strictly avoided any contact, Sam watched the huffy man stride off, his glass of whiskey in hand.

“The nerve,” Gabriel grumped, sucking at his drink’s straw noisily.

“You shouldn’t have flipped him off,” Sam scolded, though his fingers itched aimlessly as he looked for a glass to clean.

“He started it,” the archangel muttered.

There was a long silence between the two of them, filled unsatisfactorily with the clatter and noise of the rest of the bar, which made a cold lump of shame roll down Gabriel’s chest and into his stomach. He fidgeted, bit his lip, ended up finishing off his cocktail too quickly. Sam eased the empty glass from his grip and washed it out.

“What time do you get off?” Gabriel blurted.

Sam’s face was skeptically questioning. He let his hands do their work without turning his piercing hazel eyes from Gabriel.

“I’m closing up tonight,” was the too-calm answer. “So, late.”

Gabriel cupped his hands around a glass that was no longer there and nodded.

“Hey, Keith, I’m gonna call those guys in the corner a taxi, alright?” the waitress said suddenly, jamming her thumb over her shoulder at a table of really drunk college kids. “Can you handle things on your own for a few?”

Sam just tipped back his head in a lazy nod, and the blond waitress hopped off to start rounding up the kids, who were completely sloshed. Gabriel watched the scene for a bit before turning back to the bar reluctantly, and chancing a glance at Sam’s face. His expression was still tight and hard. A mask, almost. No, more like a wall.

“You alright?” Sam muttered at last, through gritted teeth.

Gabriel, brows furrowed in confusion, traced his gaze down from Sam’s darkened eyes to his tensed neck and shoulders, then down the flexed muscles of his arms. When he was finally staring at Sam’s large hands, white-knuckled as the pads of his fingers dug harshly into the counter, Gabriel was filled with a flat sort of surprise, like soda that hadn’t quite lost all its fizz.

“You’re angry,” he found himself saying, almost dreamily.

Sam reeled back from the bar as if he’d been shocked. Then his eyes darted hard to the right. He ran a hand through his soft brown hair, managed about half a laugh, and then scowled.

“You’re a douche, and a monster, but no one should—”

Sam cut himself off and took a hard breath in.

“No one should talk about anyone like that just for…”

“Being a little fruity?” Gabriel cut in with a tentative smile.

Sam’s lips curved up, just for a moment, then slipped back down into a flat line. He nodded.

“I uh… Meant what I said,” the archangel chipped in again, drumming his fingers on the top of the bar. “About your ass.”

Sam’s mouth twisted a bit, and he shot Gabriel a lightly disapproving glance that clearly said ‘don’t ruin the moment’. Gabriel only barely managed to reign in the lovestruck look in his eyes. Even if Sam was trying to be stern and stoic, especially to a dickish ‘monster’ like Gabriel, he was still the same, big-hearted moose he always was. Something fizzy and jittery bounced around in Gabriel’s heart at the thought of Sam being mad on his behalf. The words ‘righteous fury’ came to mind, and Gabriel wondered if maybe Sam would make a more model angel than him.

Granted, a lot of people would probably make a more model angel than him, but it wasn’t like he was the only one stepping in and out of lines. Balthazar and Castiel, after all, had become a bit notorious after the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t.

“I don’t,” Sam admitted slowly, jolting Gabriel from his thoughts, “I don’t like it when people treat someone like a freak for things they can’t control.”

The word freak slipped off the hunter’s tongue oddly, and hit the floor with a crash like shattered glass. Gabriel thought maybe a shard of it pierced him. He rubbed at his sternum, but the pain did not abate. That word had been loaded.

Freak.

Sam knew the pain of being called that. And hearing the lingering cuts that word had left was both painful and warming, though the heat was not a pleasant one. Gabriel burned for justice. For a world where Sam had never had to hear that word directed at him.

“Thanks, Sambo,” he said with a weak smile.

“It’s Keith,” Sam reminded him, blinking hard a few times.

They both realized at the same time that the waitress was back, having shipped off all the drunken college students. She’d returned to wiping down tables. Gabriel studied her to avoid Sam’s too-full gaze, and began to bite down on his bottom lip absently.

But after a minute, his neck was prickling and hot, and he whipped back around because being able to look back was better than passively being stared at. But Sam had leaned down a bit, and Gabriel had raised himself up to turn on the barstool, and with a clonk that rattled in both their skulls, the top of Gabriel’s head hit Sam’s jaw.

“Ow, shit!”

Clutching their injuries, the two locked eyes again, and couldn’t help but laugh. Gabriel wondered if he had ever wanted to kiss Sam Winchester as much as he did that very moment.

It only made the slight twinge of realization that he couldn’t all the more painful.

“I—”

Gabriel wanted to think up an excuse to go. He wanted to throw himself out of the situation, but he couldn’t find the words to say. Because what he _really_ wanted was to just be able to say what he really wanted, even though he couldn’t do that either.

The archangel closed his eyes, tightly. Willed something, anything to the front.

As usual, it was the Trickster that made it out.

“Don’t suppose I get a goodnight kiss?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

Only then did Gabriel open his eyes.

Sam’s pink lips were slightly parted, halfway to a question he couldn’t quite form. His brows were scrunched together. His eyes looked more green than usual in the low, yellow light.

“ _What_?”

It was so much harder, Gabriel decided, to say anything with his eyes open.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, feeling the words press hard against his teeth and his bottom lip before they flung themselves into empty space.

“Why?”

Gabriel wasn’t sure whether the disbelief coloring Sam’s tone was because of Gabriel himself or whether it stemmed from some more personal inner insecurity Sam held. He also wasn’t sure which would be more heartbreaking.

“Just humor me, gigantor,” Gabriel hedged. “It’s a yes or no question, after all.”

Sam just pulled a face, unconvinced.

“Please,” the archangel added, not even sure himself why he felt the need to press the matter.

An odd desperation hummed in the veins of his arms.

The ‘please’ seemed to have changed something. Sam, resting his palms flat on the bar, leaned down to Gabriel’s height. The archangel leaned in the slightest bit, leaving room for an ultimate refusal. Consent. The angel way; sort of. The nuance of that move lit Sam’s eyes gently, setting the swirls of color in his irises aglow.

In the end, it was Sam who pressed their lips together.

Gabriel’s heart exploded in his chest, hammering out a beat until he was sure that every part of him was squeezing the same way his heart was. Even his toes tingled with a feeling sweet and so joyful it was almost pain.

And then Sam pulled back with an odd, pleased smile and returned to working as if nothing had happened.

Gabriel, still fuzzy and strange, pressed a ten onto the countertop for the drink and didn’t bother to stay for his change. He felt constricted, bottled up, and rushed for the door.

The second he was out in the hot night air, the archangel let out a whoop that hit the stars.

He threw back his head and laughed. And slowly, slowly, he let the darkness fizzle out his high until he was just left with a feeling like a warm hug being wrapped around him. Gabriel heaved a few deep breaths and smiled.

Eyes shining, the archangel glanced back at the bar, studying the light through the windows. He pressed a trembling hand to his lips.

Then Gabriel shook his head, dispelling the last of the vagueness in it, and clicked his fingers.


	3. My Kingdom for a LARPer (Starring Charlie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn a little about Gabriel's extra-archangel-ar activities. The boys return to Moondoor. Charlie Bradbury, as usual, is a Queen.
> 
> LARPing/Moondoor AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I wish my "nerdy" references were better. Bonus points if you catch them all.

Gabriel had to blink his eyes to adjust them to the sudden light.

All around him were the sounds of a crowd, and he took in the bustle slowly, with a wicked little grin. Red tents littered the field, and people in tunics were everywhere.

“Ah, Moondoor.”

Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest as he surveyed the area, waiting for a particular someone, his toes shifting restlessly in his black boots. Then, as a minute passed, he fidgeted a bit more, adjusting the belt at his waist and the hood shadowing his face.

“It’s been a while,” the archangel mused to himself.

And then his ears caught a wisp of familiar voice.

“—are you doing here? I thought you were in Oz.”

Gabriel ducked behind a red tent, watching the two rounding the corner. A young woman with long red hair in a faux-leather jerkin, loose pants, and boots strode along in time with a much taller man in a plain red tunic whose longish brown hair was pulled back at the base of his neck. The archangel found himself nearly bouncing from glee.

Charlie and Sam. Exactly who he was looking for. He followed along, keeping out of sight but close enough to hear what they were saying.

“I’m just back for this one event,” Charlie explained, tossing her bright red hair over her shoulder. “Then Dorothy needs me in Oz again. But why are you here?”

When Sam didn’t answer immediately, Charlie stopped walking.

“It’s not another case, is it?” she asked hurriedly, grabbing the red sleeve of his cotton tunic. “Is it another case?”

Sam shook his head.

“Nah,” he answered. “After the last time, Dean got really into this stuff, you know how he is. But, uh, we never got a chance to attend another one until now.”

“Whew!”

The redhead let out a big breath and clapped Sam on the shoulder, though she had to stretch her arm a bit higher than was comfortable to do so.

“Well, it might not be as magical as last time,” she told him, wiggling her fingers, “but I promise it’ll be just as much fun!”

Sam smiled, wide enough to show off his dimples attractively. Then a passing magician saluted Charlie, and the two of them snapped back into character.

“Ahem,” said the redheaded queen, holding herself a bit more royally, “So, our handmaiden has returned, has he? And what of you?”

Sam’s grin was small, as he tried to hold himself in character.

“I am at your service, Your Majesty,” he told her.

“Hmmm… Well, we suppose we can knight you, at the nearest convenience,” the fake queen said flippantly.

It was at that moment that Gabriel stepped out into her path. Both Sam and Charlie had to jerk to a stop to avoid crashing into him, and the redhead looked as if she were about to scold him, but then her eyes went wide.

“Hey, Gabe, you knave! What’s up?” Charlie greeted, breaking character to slap the archangel a high five.

“Only the sky and your glory, my Queen,” he answered with a comically low bow.

As he stood again, he pulled back his hood, as was respectful in the face of the Queen. Their moment was interrupted by a choked gasp.

“Gabriel?!”

Irises lighting up, teasing and butterscotch, Gabriel waggled his eyebrows.

“Heya, sasquatch. Nice tunic.”

Charlie looked back and forth between them, contemplating, and seemed to figure something out. She put her gloved hands on her hips in a way that told Gabriel he was _so_ in for it.

“Hold!” she said authoritatively, pausing the game. “Gabriel-the-archangel Gabriel? Gabriel aka Loki aka the Trickster Gabriel?”

“Guilty.”

Charlie threw her hands in the air with a shout of frustration.

“You mean I’ve been besties with an archangel and I haven’t gotten any perks out of it yet? Where are my illusionary girlfriends?” she demanded.

Gabriel shuffled his feet in a pale mockery of sheepishness.

“You didn’t ask?”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed intensely.

“ _We_ are asking now,” she said firmly, straightening her posture so she could look down her nose at the amused archangel.

“As my lady commands.”

But before Gabriel could snap his fingers, Sam had grabbed him by the front of his tunic and pulled him into the nearest tent.

“You know, Sambo, I normally save this kind of thing for the second da—”

Sam’s large hands gripped Gabriel’s shoulders hard, and the archangel fell into silence.

“You’re here,” the hunter said slowly, as if he couldn’t quite understand it. “You’re alive?”

“Surprise?” Gabriel offered, lifting his arms in a ‘here I am’ gesture as best he could with the weight of Sam’s hands holding him in place.

Gabriel tried to look up, but Sam’s eyes were too hard to read and even as an archangel he couldn’t hold that sort of intense gaze. As if everything was upside down and Sam was the one seeing into his soul. The one angels didn’t actually have.

“ _Gabriel_.”

“I’m here,” he replied softly. “Really.”

“How?” Sam demanded.

“The how’s not important, Sam. I am the Trickster, after all.”

The brunette’s eyes narrowed, as if he were about to argue that yes, actually, the how _was_ important, but then Charlie popped her head through the tent flap. She looked around a few seconds before her eyes settled on the two of them.

“Oh,” she said, sounding _almost_ disappointed. “You’re not making out.”

Sam opened his mouth, decided he didn’t want an explanation for a comment like that, and closed it again. Gabriel pressed his lips together, torn between laughing and smacking the Queen.

“No,” Sam said at last, seeing that Gabriel wasn’t about to speak and shooting Charlie an unimpressed look. “We aren’t.”

She shrugged in response, like her error in judgment was a negligible one.

“Well, where did you say you left Dean again?” she asked.

Sam shot Gabriel a firm and scolding look, then pushed past Charlie out of the tent and began to lead the way. The archangel lingered for a moment, unsure if he was invited, and then decided to hell with it because he was an archangel and he could just very well invite himself. So he hurried up to Sam and Charlie, tucking his hands behind his back casually, and followed them as they wove through the encampment.

In front of one of the larger tents, they found Dean, fighting invisible enemies with a fake sword. Gabriel wished he had a camera, but was also cognizant of the fact that any actual magic would draw way more attention to him than he really wanted.

Instead, he clapped loudly.

Dean whirled around to face the group approaching him, fake blade held aloft, and immediately opened his mouth but found he had nothing to say. Sam shot him a smirk, and the green-eyed hunter’s expression dropped into one of horror at the kind of ammunition he had given his brother.

Then his eyes locked on Gabriel and narrowed.

Charlie, being the fabulous Queen she was, noticed the tension in the air spiking and forced everyone into her royal tent and away from prying eyes for an out-of-character discussion.

“So, um, Dean, this is Gabe, my royal thief-slash-assassin who I guess you actually know since he’s really the Trickster and didn’t _tell_ me,” the redhead rambled.

Even her nervous word vomit didn’t tear Dean’s glare away from Gabriel.

“You? Of all the dead people we know to suddenly not be dead, it _had_ to be you,” said Dean.

“It sure did, Deano,” retorted Gabriel, playing it straight. “Who else could save your sorry asses?”

“From what? LARPers?”

The archangel shrugged and shot Dean a smug, tricksterish grin before pulling a chocolate bar out of thin air. Not bothering with a verbal response to Dean’s taunt, he instead proceeded to stick his tongue out at the hunter before unwrapping the candy and taking a large, satisfying bite.

“Yeah, real mature,” Dean muttered.

Sam shook his head.

“Uh, look, guys…” he started, but didn’t seem to have any real argument to finish with.

“Hey, we’re all on the same side here, right?” Charlie piped up suddenly. “Fighting for Moondoor, well and me of course, and all that funky jazz? Look, Gabe’s the Fred to my George—”

“Why do I have to be the one who di—Oh. Right.”

“Ahem!” said Charlie loudly, giving Gabriel a pointed look. “And fyi I would totally be grateful if we all got to do this thing together, you know? You guys might be bitches, but you’re my bitches.”

The insistent look she gave them was actually almost as strong as Sam’s puppy-dog eyes; only a nine point three instead of a perfect ten, but really only Sam could be perfect so it was close enough. Gabriel, of course, knew from the start that he would cave to it, but Dean crumbled too—like soggy cardboard.

“Alright, _fine_. But no tricks!”

Gabriel put a hand over his heart and faked offense. Unsurprisingly, no one believed him.

Then there was some clamoring outside the tent, and Charlie peeked out the flap.

“Oh, shizz! Ok, guys, it’s show time!” she whispered back to them.

Everybody took a deep breath and rolled their shoulders, getting into character. Dean placed the heel of his palm on top of his sword’s hilt, to reassure himself it was still in its scabbard. Sam hurriedly smeared on some red and white war paint, as if he just wouldn’t be battle-ready without it. Gabriel put up his hood. Charlie just tossed her hair over her shoulder.

Then, in sync like they were in an action movie, the four of them strode out to meet the Followers of the Moon, Charlie’s peeps, as she liked to call them. The red-and-white garbed faction split down the middle to make an aisle for Charlie, who led them out to an empty field where the other armies were gathered.

Everyone looked around, sizing up their enemies and making sure all the players were accounted for. It was silent.

Dean looked about ready to make a speech, but Charlie held out her hand delicately to stop him. Then, she extracted herself from the crowd of red-clad warriors and began to pace up and down in front of their line.

“Followers of the Moon! My kin,” she began solemnly, “I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me.”

There was a long pause. A few warriors shuffled. Sam was grinning under his facepaint, and Gabriel wasn’t sure why he personally was so pleased that Sam was getting the reference too.

“A day may come when the courage of Moondoor fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship,” the redhead admitted slowly. “but it is _not_ this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Moons comes crashing down, but it is _not_ this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Followers of the Moon!”

She let out a wordless shout and raised her sword, and their entire little army followed suit. And then, with Charlie leading the charge, Gabriel and the Winchesters at her sides, they rushed into battle.

It was a free-for-all for a long while, foam-covered swords clashing, colorful beanbags flying left, right, and diagonal. Gabriel, armed with a set of fake daggers and a few “magic spells”, stuck mainly to close combat. And though his reflexes were generally sub-par, as evidenced by his inability to get out of the Dad-damned way whenever the Super Winchester Bros decided to shove a stake through his heart, it wasn’t like the other LARPers were particularly coordinated.

He’d just ‘sliced the throat’ of a particularly troublesome Elf when he tripped over someone’s helmet and fell on his ass. Which, in any sort of combat situation, was bad news.

And then there was a sword slicing towards him, and he’d dropped his daggers.

Gabriel threw up his arms protectively and closed his eyes.

Nothing happened.

He opened them again, to see that Sam had blocked the Styrofoam-covered blade’s blow with his own fake longsword. And as ridiculous as it was, Gabriel found himself thinking the action rather… Dashing. His heart gave a quick, hard _thud_ against his ribcage. Then Dean hauled him to his feet, and Gabriel was back in the game.

Darting in and out of the crowd, loosening belts and stealing any weapon that wasn’t held onto securely, Gabriel was a force to be reckoned with once he got going, slipping back into a more lighthearted form of Trickster with ease. The other three armies, the poor sons of bitches, never stood a chance.

Once again, the Queen of Moons and her mishmash army were victorious.

Charlie went off to her tent to change out of battle gear, and Dean wandered off to the little post-battle refreshments table some of the Warriors of Yesteryear had thought to set up.

But even as many of the LARPers were relaxing or packing up, a few were still deep in game territory.

“Giant, I challenge you for your place at the Queen’s side!”

Sam blinked, then pointed at himself, as if there were anyone else around that the runty squire could refer to as “giant”. Then, emboldened by the first, two or three more guys crowded around and voiced challenges of their own against Sam. His hazel eyes skipped over the faces of his opponents, taking them all in. Gabriel nudged the brunette with his shoulder.

“Go defend your honor, gigantor, before I have to do it for you,” he insisted.

Sam looked down at Gabriel in a way that sent the archangel’s heart clamoring in his chest, then shrugged his big shoulders and went off to fight his host of adversaries. Gabriel watched, half to see the male LARPers throw themselves at 6’4” of berserker-deadly hunter in a vain attempt to win the heart of a lesbian, and half to openly gawk the way Sam’s muscles flexed when he fought, even at play.

“D’you know people ship you two?” Charlie asked suddenly, leaning her shoulder against a cart.

Gabriel tensed, then eased himself down from surprise to turn and glance at her.

He _hadn’t_ known people shipped them, actually. Although he had the nagging feeling maybe he was supposed to know that. The face of bouncing, boundlessly energetic Becky Rosen itched at the back of his brain like a reminder. Hm. But the idea of people thinking he and Sam would be good together was both oddly flattering, confidence-boosting even, and weird. Then again, weird he was used to; weird was like his currency.

“How exactly did you find _that_ out?”

Charlie winked, shoving him a little.

“I keep tabs on the fandom,” she said with a modest shrug.

“Truly a Queen among men,” Gabriel replied.

“Yeah well…” Charlie trailed off. “Flattery will get you everywhere. And you _so_ owe me for being such a fab wingwoman.”

Gabriel nodded absently, finding suddenly that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Sam as he fought off three other knights in fake mortal combat. Charlie just grinned to herself.

“Holy Dad he’s cute with his hair tied back,” the archangel muttered.

“Why don’t you just ask him out?” asked Charlie, as if shocked that he hadn’t come to such an obvious conclusion.

Gabriel mussed his hair and huffed.

“That’s what I’m _trying_ to do.”

She gave him a skeptical look, as if to say ‘are you sure?’ and Gabriel pursed his lips. Just because it wasn’t going so well… Everyone’s a critic, he thought to himself. Gabriel took a few moments to collect his thoughts and cobble together a good counter-argument, but that very second Sam jogged up to them, sweaty and grinning as locks of his hair fell out of the hair tie at the base of his neck to frame his shining face.

Gabriel licked his lips unconsciously and hoped after the fact that Sam hadn’t noticed.

“I defended my honor,” the brunette joked, wiping his brow and smearing his facepaint everywhere. “And my place at your side, O’ Queen of Moons.”

“You have done well, young padawan,” nodded Charlie sagely.

“Good job, Sambo.”

Then a curvy little blonde in a shieldmaiden dress passed by, ducking her head shyly and giving a little “my Queen”, eyes darting up to Charlie’s. A slow smirk spread over the redhead’s face. She patted Gabriel on the shoulder, not even looking back at him.

“Look, I love you and all Gabe, but—”

The archangel waggled his brows suggestively.

“May the odds be ever in your favor, _my Queen_ ,” he teased.

She turned, just briefly, to stick out her tongue, then strode off after the blonde with her head held high and her hips swaying. Sam stared after her, looking almost puzzled.

“And I thought that dick professor got more ass than a toilet seat,” said Gabriel, shaking his head. “Clearly I needed to recalibrate.”

“What, lost your touch after Kali dumped you?” Sam asked, and then jolted as if realizing what he’d just said.

A laugh jumped from Gabriel’s mouth, followed by a stream of noise that was half-cough.

“Oh, man, that was… That was a good one. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Sam made a face that reminded Gabriel of a confused puppy. It was, he thought to himself, downright adorable, like the descriptor “confused puppy” didn’t point to that well enough already.

“Come on, Sambo!” he exclaimed, slapping a hand against the brunette’s sweaty back. “You got me. I’m not mad. Let loose for once, sasquatch.”

Sam rolled his eyes, shook his head, and tried not to smile. It didn’t quite work, for which Gabriel was grateful. The archangel thought about what might happen if he went in for a hug. Aside from getting covered in moose sweat, of course, which he didn’t particularly mind. The other results, well… Not so optimal.

And then he had an idea.

“Uh, Gabriel, I—”

But before Sam could say more, Gabriel had darted around behind him and leapt onto his back, forcing the unwitting hunter into giving him a piggy-back ride.

“Wow, the air really is thinner up here,” he commented.

Sam flailed a little bit, but in the name of balance eventually had to grab Gabriel’s legs and support the archangel’s weight.

“What,” he wheezed when their pose was settled, “are you doing?”

“Just changing my perspective,” the archangel answered, tugging on the end of Sam’s little ponytail.

“Can you stop?” Sam demanded, jerking his head a little, and even from behind Gabriel knew his expression was the press-lipped ‘what do you think you’re doing’ one.

“Only for you.”

When, after a few moments, Gabriel made no move to climb down, Sam turned his head to the left, trying to get a visual on the archangel. All he got for his trouble was a tender kiss to the temple.

“Gabriel, what—”

And then, without warning, Gabriel hopped down. Figuring he might as well push the envelope while he was ahead, he wrapped his arms around the brunette’s middle and hugged him close before bounding away with a cackle. Sam just stood there, confused.

After his little escapade, Gabriel raided the refreshments table, snagging a cupcake, two brownies, and a frosted sugar cookie. He watched people tear down tents and props and load them up to take home. Finally, the archangel decided it was time to go.

He strode out to the empty battlefield, took a deep breath, and looked up at the blue sky.

He was about to snap his fingers when—

“Hey, Gabe!”

The archangel glanced back at Charlie, who was halfway across the abandoned field, close to the tents, with his head tilted.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Sam’s been looking for you! Don’t BS me, you’ve totally been hiding! When did you get all nervous?” she called, hands cupped around her mouth. “You were a total bamf in Tall Tales!”

Gabriel shrugged.

“I didn’t like him then,” he projected back.

“Liar!”

Gabriel didn’t know what to say to that, so he just stood there, looking at her. Eventually, Charlie jogged up to him, fake sword banging against the side of her leg. When she reached him, a little out of breath, she held out a hand for a fistbump.

“B-T-dubs, you’re letting yourself think too much,” the redhead added. “Just go for it. He’s over by my tent.”

Gabriel nodded and tapped his fist against hers.

“Check you later,” he said with a wry quirk of the lips.

And before Charlie could offer any more advice, Gabriel had snapped his fingers.


	4. But Oh, Those Summer Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel finds himself in unexpected company, and starts to see the potential merits of a world without the Supernatural.  
> Summer Lovin' AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s pretty short, compared to what I’ve been writing. Sorry, Gabriel’s tough to control! He's pretty flighty, after all.
> 
> Only about 10 more AU idea slots to fill, so if there’s an AU you really want to see, please comment so I can make sure to get it in for you! Additionally, I’m still shuffling around the order, so if there’s one you NEED TO READ RIGHT NOW please just ask!

As the world faded in around him, Gabriel found himself sitting comfortably at an outdoor café table with a ketchup-dipped French fry halfway to his mouth. With a wide grin, he flicked the fry into his mouth and started chewing.

“So?” asked the person sitting across from him, and Gabriel proceeded to choke on the French fry.

After his completely dignified coughing fit, the archangel looked up and into the eyes of one of his younger brothers.

“Balthazar?” he asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

That had not been part of the plan… Balthazar was dead, after all. No sense burning old family wounds by popping in an illusionary version of one of the murdered angels. The messy-haired blond shook his head, mouth twisted in a smug smirk and hands folded just below the skin bared by his dangerously-low v-neck.

“Oh, darling, you really do have it bad,” Balthazar commented. “Was your mysterious brunette really that good in the sack?”

Gabriel snatched up the chocolate milkshake next to his plate and took a hurried sip to buy himself time to settle his nerves. Then he took a deep breath and put on his best smile. Might as well play along, right?

“He just had these eyes,” the archangel explained, waving his hand elaborately. “Like… Ugh. He was a total puppy dog for someone so huge.”

“You always did go for the big ones,” Balthazar teased.

Gabriel winked, and felt his heart squeeze a little. Clearly he hadn’t appreciated Balthazar enough. He was much more fun than Castiel or Gabriel’s fellow archangels. Though it was true the archangels had always been closest to each other, everything between his older brothers was always drama, drama, drama. Gabriel had a flair for the dramatic, sure, but that was different. A distinction between elegance and beating a dead horse.

And apparently Balthazar was the only other angel that understood that.

“What about you?” Gabriel asked conversationally. “What were you up to this summer?”

Balthazar waved the question away, taking a delicate sip of the wine in front of him.

“Oh, you don’t want to know about little old me!” the blond angel protested. “My life’s been an utter bore, since Cassie kicked me out. Nothing to speak of!”

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow, and Balthazar relented. He put up his hands in a show of surrender.

“Alright, fine, fine. Maybe a little sexual deviancy, but that’s simply the age we’re in, Gabriel!”

The archangel tipped his milkshake for an impromptu toast, and Balthazar accepted it, though he rolled his eyes.

“And don’t I know it,” agreed Gabriel.

“So, are you planning on seeing him again?” Balthazar asked.

Gabriel shrugged, playing along with the scenario, though he knew, of course, what the truth was.

“Not sure. Never got his number or anything. Just his name: Sam.”

“You, my friend, have been taking one too many cues from Grease,” Balthazar complained, picking at his food.

Gabriel shrugged, guiltily, and couldn’t hide a smile.

“What can I say, Bal?”

The two of them finished eating, and Gabriel reveled in the attention of another of his brothers more suited to his temperament. He almost forgot his original purpose, too pleased with his company. But once they had paid the bill, split properly down the middle, Balthazar headed off to a sporty convertible and Gabriel remembered Sam.

“I must get back to campus,” Balthazar said as he left. “I still have to work on my thesis. Nasty business. You’re lucky the newspaper picked you up before you wasted yourself on grad school, darling. Drop by my office, though, Gabriel, I’ll be there all afternoon!”

“Sure thing, Balthazar,” Gabriel agreed, letting the waterfall of precise syllables fall over him.

Then, with a sigh, the archangel stuffed his hands in his pockets and decided to walk. After all, it was his little imaginary scenario, and if he didn’t want to drive he shouldn’t have to, he thought with a nod. The campus was small, and only four or five blocks from the little restaurant he and Balthazar had eaten at. The familiar cut of Belle Plains Community College against the sky was comforting, somehow. Gabriel’s shoulders loosened, and he fell into his usual swagger.

He wandered the campus for a few minutes, watching the firestorm of falling leaves and feeling a brisk fall wind brushing his cheeks. But after a bit, the archangel decided he had stalled enough, and headed to Balthazar’s basement TA office, one of a host of basement offices used by grad students. It was a less than extravagant set of accommodations, but in a community college that was to be expected.

He knocked on office door number 69, snickering to himself.

“Bal, I’ve come to visit!”                                                                                                                    

The door creaked open, but it wasn’t Balthazar immediately on the other side. No, the blond sat further back inside the office, in a rolling chair with his feet propped on his desk. Instead, Gabriel found himself face-to-chest with all 6’4” of mysterious summer stranger.

“Gabriel…?”

The brunette’s eyes looked so shocked and wide, it was hard not to laugh at him or ruffle his hair. Gabriel put all that unspent energy into his posture.

“Hey there, Sambo.”

Sam blushed red from the tips of his ears to the curve of his neck where shirt met skin. Gabriel just grinned up at him, pleased.

“Oh, so this is the famous Sam?” Balthazar called from his chair, shattering the moment into a million fragments.

Gabriel shifted his weight slightly, unsure whether to be angry or relieved.

“Famous?” Sam asked softly, hazel eyes going brown and shy.

“What, did you think I’d forget about you?” the archangel teased.

He found, in that moment, that it was so much easier to press a hand against Sam’s cheek when he was being looked at so innocently. Something about the heat where their skin connected kept tugging at Gabriel’s lips until he was wearing a goofy smile that would have embarrassed Michael.

Fake memories danced in front of the archangel’s eyes.

The arc of Sam’s back as he dove into the ocean. Stunning hazel eyes lit by the sun blazing down into warm waters. The barest tint of pink to Sam’s well-defined features, just soft enough to be blamed on sun. A fumbling proposition, on both parts. A kiss. Two. Three. The two of them lying on soft white sand, hands intertwined.

The way Sam’s eyes melted told Gabriel that their minds were on a similar track.

“Look, not that I particularly mind watching people eye-fuck in my doorway, but I will have to leave the office eventually,” said Balthazar out of nowhere.

Gabriel blinked a few times and shook his head to dislodge the fuzzy heat of the memories.

“Yeah, sure,” Sam replied absently, stepping out into the hallway and forcing Gabriel to back up and his hand to fall away from Sam’s face.

“You know, we could always…”

Gabriel wasn’t actually sure what he was trying to say. Thankfully, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder with his thumb seemed to be enough to let the pieces click into place for Sam. The brunette smiled and led the way up the stairs and out of the building. Gabriel trailed after him, much like a lovesick puppy, if Balthazar’s acoustically-enhanced mutterings were anything to go off of. But the archangel didn’t let that bother him.

Following Sam’s lead, he settled on a bench on the campus green.

“I… Didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Sam said at last, tipping his head back and keeping his eyes trained on the sky above them.

“Did you want to?”

The question was out before Gabriel could filter himself, but somehow he didn’t find himself as nervous as usual. It was oddly soothing to talk to Sam out of a context of their world. From a place of normalcy, human to human. No giant secrets, no hunter-monster barrier, no weight of death pressing down over them both. Gabriel felt a quick twinge in his aorta, psychosomatic, and decided to ignore it.

“I did,” Sam admitted into the silence of Gabriel’s musings, sounding almost surprised.

A toothy smile split the archangel’s lips before he schooled himself back to a trickster grin.

“Me too, Sammy-boy,” he said.

“Really…?”

As usual, Sam Winchester’s eyes were heart-stopping. They were swirling with a little more green than normal, and Gabriel’s mind got stuck on that thought, an odd loop, because his mind was having trouble processing that Sam had whipped his gaze from the sky directly into Gabriel’s eyes without so much as a pause.

“Of course,” he all but gasped as the disbelief in Sam’s voice finally registered. “ _Of course_ I wanted to see you again.”

And then Gabriel felt a pair of slightly-chapped lips pressed against his own. And if that wasn’t a shock to his system, nothing could be. He tangled his squared fingers in Sam’s dark hair, and decided that everything was perfect.

It was a peculiar high.

None of the nervousness he’d felt in his previous practices, the odd pressure squeezed against his lungs, all his mistakes. It was just… Gone.

Gabriel let the kiss and the fake summer memories pull him into a freeing sort of bliss.

Just a newspaper columnist sitting on a bench in late fall and kissing a beautiful guy.

“Winchester,” Sam breathed when they parted for air.

“Hm…?” Gabriel murmured.

“My last name, it’s Winchester,” Sam explained, letting out a soft laugh that shone like polished glass.

“Gabriel Milton, at your service,” the archangel said, tucking his head into the crook of Sam’s neck in a way he was sure he could never have gotten away with had he been sitting with the real Sam Winchester.

“Think I’ll see you around, Mr. Milton?” Sam asked.

Gabriel had a witty, flirty response on the tip of his tongue, but somehow, something else tumbled past his lips.

“I love you.”

Sam tensed, clutching the archangel closer, and Gabriel panicked.

He pulled his right arm away, feeling Sam’s soft hair sliding over his palm for a second. The rest of him was tucked close to the brunette’s chest, but his frantic heart didn’t even afford him time to pull away fully.

Once his hand was free, Gabriel clicked his fingers together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As for Balthazar, well...  
> I loved him too much not to add him. There might be a teeny bit of explanation for his appearance in a later chapter...?


	5. An Angel Counts As Something Old, Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel decides to attend a wedding. Balthazar is still lurking around.  
> Wedding Party AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I’m still settling things around, but they’re getting a bit more finalized. The next batch of chapters is going to be mostly domestic-ish or cheesy romcom AUs, outside the realm of the supernatural, now that Gabe’s gotten a taste of life without baggage and become addicted. Still about 10 slots open, and if there’s any romcom-ish plot you wanna see, speak now or forever hold your peace.

The first thing Gabriel heard was organ music. The first thing he saw was the glare of light off a stained-glass window. And then, stepping through the glare, was a beautiful fairy. She strode elegantly to the altar, on the arm of a sly-eyed woman that Gabriel had the distinct feeling he had met somewhere before. Their eyes connected with a sizzling spark, and Gabriel felt a shudder rip down his spine.

Queen Mab.

Charlie Bradbury’s – for it was the adventurous redhead who stood at the altar waiting for the procession of fairies in a plaid button-up – soon-to-be wife was being led down the aisle by _Queen Mab_. The archangel smiled nervously.

“Alright,” said a very official-looking woman from the doors of the church. “Good, good, everyone looked very nice. Good space, good pacing. We should be ready.”

The rigidity in the room broke like a dam, and everyone eased into slouches and rolled their shoulders. Gabriel felt more comfortable looking around at the rest of the wedding party. He was standing next to a man he didn’t know, but who gave off the aura of fairy the same way Charlie’s fiancée did. Beyond him were Sam and Dean. Gabriel’s grin appeared immediately. On the other side of the brides was a line of four women, headed by Dorothy. The other three were fairies. All in all, everyone appeared to be in high spirits, especially Charlie and Gilda, if he was guessing the identity of the bridelier bride.

“Alright, guys! Time for food!” Charlie cheered, throwing up a Vulcan hand sign with one arm and wrapping the other around Gilda’s waist.

So the entire group filed out after them, and Gabriel stayed near the back because Sam’s jeans, while not quite of the skinny-jean variety hugged his tush nicely, and the archangel was not about to miss out on a view like that. Thankfully, instead of a hunter, Sam Winchester was a fairly successful lawyer, and did not have the tactical know-how to realize that his butt was under close scrutiny.

Because Gabriel had decided that practice sans baggage was much more fun, completely ignoring that the ‘baggage’ was the reason practice was necessary in the first place.

“You’re eying him like a piece of meat,” Dorothy commented with a wry grin.

Gabriel coughed.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that, Indee,” he disagreed.

She quirked an eyebrow, but eventually shrugged and chose not to comment on the nickname.

“If you say so. But Charlie definitely noticed. Your assigned seat at dinner is next to him.”

And that was right about the time that Gabriel simultaneously tripped and choked on his breath. He tumbled down the four steps at the doors of the church and landed with his ass in the air. The archangel was glad that, while he hated attention, he had learned not to get overly embarrassed or angry when others laughed at him.

“Hey, are you alright?”

A large hand wrapped around Gabriel’s forearm, and he was hauled to his feet and inadvertently into the chest of Sam Winchester.

“Perfectly fine, Sambo,” the archangel replied, muffled by the flannel of Sam’s shirt.

Gently, Sam shifted his grip higher to pull them apart, ducking a little so he could look Gabriel in the eyes.

“Gabriel… Right?”

He just nodded dumbly in response, feeling a little high and fuzzy from the way Sam’s fingers curled around his biceps.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Gabriel quipped at last, unsure exactly how he had managed the brain power to get the words into the open air.

Laughing at himself a little, he pulled out of Sam’s hold and turned to continue following after Charlie and Gilda. And then a large arm hooked through his. Gabriel’s amber eyes shot up to Sam’s face. The brunette pulled a sheepish, close-lipped puppy-dog smile.

“Just in case you lose your balance again,” he explained, as if that were a perfectly logical reason to walk arm-in-arm with someone you’d only just met the day before.

Not that Gabriel was complaining.

Especially when he found out that Dorothy had been telling the truth.

In fact, the archangel was almost lost in a sea of thoughts that mostly consisted of a three-letter name when he happened to look over at the caterers setting up the food for the rehearsal dinner. As he did, one of them looked up with a messy head of blond hair and a dirty smirk.

Balthazar.

Again. Where he wasn’t supposed to be. Again.

A prickle of discomfort climbed the back of Gabriel’s neck, and he had to rub at it. Balthazar just winked and turned back to what he was supposed to be doing.

“You alright?” Sam whispered.

Gabriel put on a charming smile, trying not to watch Balthazar out of the corner of his eye.

“You seem to ask that a lot.”

“You seem prone to distraction,” Sam retorted, fiddling with a salad fork.

The archangel let out a bark of laughter that had Dorothy and Queen Mab looking at him disapprovingly, and Charlie looking too pleased with herself.

“I guess I do,” he admitted at last.

Most of the meal was spent in quiet, polite conversation. It was odd to be gathered in a family-like setting where no one was arguing. But it was a good sort of odd. Almost… Comfortable.

“So, Gabriel, how do you know Charlie and Gilda?” Sam asked politely, cutting his food into equally-polite little bites.

“Charlie and I share some hobbies,” the archangel answered. “LARPing, that sorta thing. I… I like to act.”

Gabriel was almost shocked to find himself tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear and wondered when he had regressed to a twenty-something bookworm romance novel protagonist. Not that there was anything wrong with that except that it was highly out of character for him and Gabriel took offense on principle.

“That’s really cool,” said Sam, in a way that made it obvious that he meant what he was saying.

He’d ducked his head a bit again, to look Gabriel in the eyes. Whenever he turned his face, the color shifted, like a kaleidoscope, and the archangel found himself mesmerized with tracking the changes.

“Yeah, uh… What about you, gigantor? What’s your relationship to the bride and… Bride?” Gabriel asked, clearing his throat.

Sam blushed red to the tips of his ears and fidgeted.

“My brother, Dean,” he explained, gesturing to the green-eyed man further down the table, “and I… We, uh… We saved Charlie from some muggers. We… Kept in touch after that, and she helped us out with a few things. It sounds kind of weird out of context…”

Gabriel leaned his chin on his palm, and twisted a little in his chair to face Sam more obviously.

“Nah, it sounds… Sweet. Glad somebody’s been looking out for the little ginger daredevil.”

“I heard that, Gabe!” Charlie huffed from four places down the table.

Her exaggerated pout told him she was faking her anger, but Gilda rubbed a thumb over the top of her hand anyway and that was almost too sweet even for Gabriel. He smiled and looked away.

The rest of dinner was hazy and pleasant, except for the eerie shudder Gabriel had to suppress whenever he caught sight of his supposedly-dead brother. _Something_ was up with Balthazar. But he’d have to wait and see just what, and Sam was too good of a distraction to pass up.

After everyone was finished, they drove back to the hotel they’d all booked rooms at for the night. Dean had argued for going out and celebrating, but Charlie reminded him that one, she had already had her bachelorette party, and two, she would dismantle his phone and his car if he showed up to her wedding drunk or hung over.

While pulling his room key from his pocket, Gabriel caught the brothers Winchester scuffling a bit at the end of the hall. Dean appeared to be trying to wrestle his younger brother down to a height appropriate for a noogie, and Sam was having none of it. Then, suddenly, they were both looking at him.

Gabriel fumbled and dropped his key.

Dean nudged his brother, said something with a suggestive smirk, and knocked on the door to a room that was definitely not his own. Sam shuffled his feet and dug in his pockets for his key. Gabriel bent down slowly to recover his own, but whatever Dean had said to Sam didn’t seem to take.

With a shrug and a pull of hand through his blond-brown hair, the archangel entered his hotel room and closed the door.

It was ten minutes later, when Gabriel was wearing only boxers and an undershirt and debating whether to just snap out, that a tap-tap-tap sounded on his door. He pulled it open slightly and came face-to-chest with Sam, who was still fully dressed.

Gabriel dredged up some water from his well of Trickster and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his ankles.

“What’re you doing in my neck of the woods, gigantor?”

Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking baffled as to how he actually _had_ ended up in Gabriel’s neck of the woods. He squeezed his hazel eyes shut and breathed through his nose. After a shake of his head that had his soft hair flying in every direction, he spoke again.

“Uh. I mean, there’s kind of a… _Thing_ about sleeping with someone else in the wedding party, right? So, I… Came to collect.”

Gabriel bit his lower lip, hard, trying to reign in his reaction from the extremes of laughing or tackling the brunette where he stood.

“Well, Sambo, come on in then,” he said at last, pulling the door wide open and gesturing inside.

“Thanks.”

Gabriel considered, while making sure that the door closed with a soft click and not a slam, that he had just received the most polite booty call in probably the history of the world, and that his claim was further substantiated by the fact that he had, actually, been around for the entire history of the world. He was so busy being charmed that he was completely caught off guard when Sam slammed him into the closed door and kissed him.

It was feverish and frantic, and Gabriel got caught up in the feeling of it despite whatever better judgment he might have claimed to have. His fingers fumbled with the buttons on Sam’s shirt, and he couldn’t see what he was doing because whenever Sam pulled away for air he surged forward again almost immediately.

But when Gabriel’s hands had successfully navigated getting Sam out of his shirt and drifted down to the brunette’s belt, Sam recoiled. The archangel stilled immediately, and held up his hands in what he hoped was a calming gesture.

“S-sorry,” Sam stammered, before Gabriel had a chance to apologize.

“… What?”

“No, I just, I… Sorry, it’s just Dean said I should… And I thought I’d be fine but…”

The brunette looked torn, but then shook his head and pulled Gabriel into his arms again. The angel’s head was spinning from all the mixed signals, but when Sam leaned down to kiss him, he curled his hands around the taller man’s arms and held him back.

“Sam. What’s the problem?”

The lack of a nickname seemed to startle the lawyer back to himself.

“I, uh… I just don’t normally do this sort of thing…” Sam mumbled, shoving his hair out of his face nervously.

Gabriel pulled back further immediately. Right. Vulnerability.

“Guys, or sex with people you barely know?” he teased, rubbing his right thumb over Sam’s stupidly huge bicep and trying to convey a sense of open easiness.

He was pleased to receive a laugh for his efforts.

“Both,” admitted Sam.

“You know, Sasquatch, we don’t actually have to _do_ anything. I’ll still let you brag to Deano, no strings attached.”

Sam’s doe-eyed gaze was so warm it _glowed_ , even when he was only lit by a strip of cool, silvery moonlight. Gabriel thought he might actually melt, and an airy feeling surged up through his chest at the shine in the brunette’s eyes.

“Can I still kiss you?” Sam asked hoarsely.

Gabriel pressed his lips together as he fought off a stupid grin.

“I think I’d like that.”

The kiss was hard and intense, especially after the open softness of Sam’s admissions, but it lacked the panic of his previous kisses. Gabriel’s world was overwhelmed, shrinking down to the press of lip to lip and the blanket of safe heat he felt settling over him when Sam pulled him closer.

“There,” the archangel said softly, searching Sam’s eyes with his own. “Isn’t this better, Sammy-boy?”

The brunette hugged him tight, tucking Gabriel’s head under his chin.

“Much,” he admitted, to Gabriel’s pleasure.

“Isn’t life so much easier when we use our words instead of listening to stupid older brothers?” he teased, eyes sparkling gold in the sparse light.

Sam pulled back and looked down at Gabriel with a sudden, pleasant understanding in his gaze.

“Yes, it is.”

And his voice was so sweet that Gabriel was once again thrown completely off when he was hauled into a fireman’s carry by his gigantic fellow groomsman. Sam dropped him onto the hotel bed with a smile, and then proceeded to sit on the edge of the bed and take off his socks and shoes politely.

Gabriel shook his head, but couldn’t banish the wide smile from his face.

“Nerd.”

Sam glanced back at him.

“Midget.”

And Gabriel pouted, even though he didn’t mean it and they both knew it. Then Sam rolled into bed and wiggled around to get comfortable. He slept on his back, with his hands over his stomach. Gabriel just watched, lying on his side. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, Sam’s left hand searched out Gabriel’s right in the dark.

Nothing more was said, but for once Gabriel felt that that was perfectly fine.

The archangel woke up the next morning with golden sunlight rippling over the bedspread and onto Sam’s slowly rising chest. His brain was fuzzy, and he realized how odd it was that he’d immersed himself into the practice world enough to sleep at all.

And then he decided it was all worth it to wake up to Sam sleeping and imagine it was something he could do every morning. The realization that it wasn’t hit him like a train, knocking the air from his lungs.

“That’s what the practice is _for_ , jackass,” Gabriel muttered to himself, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes.

When his vision was clear and his breathing had settled, Gabriel took a long last look at Sam, whose chocolate hair was dappled in sunshine.

It took all the angel’s willpower to click his fingers together.


	6. Red Lolly, Drunk and In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunken Meeting AU  
> Gabriel and Sam meet at a house party, and the lovestruck archangel gets to encounter drunk Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, school's being a pain in the ass. I've been trying to write this chapter for like five days now, so if it feels a little disjointed, that's probably why.

Blaring club music had Gabriel blinking hard. He snapped his fingers subtly a few times to the beat, lowering the volume to one that was more acceptable to someone who’d recently hopped into the scene from absolute silence.

He was in a large house, more of a manor, which appeared to be mostly white. There were no strobe lights to accompany the music, but a few strings of rainbow Christmas lights were crisscrossing over the ceiling. Gabriel smirked and shook his head, and only then realized he had a big round cocktail glass in his hand. It was full of something pinkish-red, smattered with ice, and had a black straw peeking out of the top. The archangel took a tentative sip, not that he doubted his own drink-mixing abilities, but he was still, after all, a little on edge from seeing his dead brother twice where he _was not_ supposed to be.

Strawberry. With a hint of… Cranberry?

“Hm.”                                                                                                                                               

And then he was startled by a hard slap on the back. Eyes flaring gold in annoyance, he rounded on the slapper, only to come face-to-face with Balthazar and completely choke.

“Darling, you’re going to give yourself medical complications drinking a sugar-laden monstrosity like that,” Balthazar teased.

Gabriel huffed, sucking down another gulp of his fruity drink.

“I’m older and I’ll do what I want,” he managed at last, grumpily.

“Older than what? Me or Mt. Vesuvius?” the blond asked, pouring himself a glass of white wine.

“Fuck you, Bal.”

But Balthazar just laughed. And then the door rang, and he sashayed off in his stupid gray v-neck to greet their guests. A house party, then. Gabriel had had a fair few of those in his time, though most of them were slightly more magical in nature.

Not that this seemed to be any less rocking. Humans, after all, could party damn hard. The archangel grinned, and mingled easily. He was dressed inconspicuously, just the way he liked it, and with everyone drinking he could people-watch as much as he liked.

“Sure are a lot of college kids here,” the archangel commented when his blond brother approached. “How many of them are going to end up in your bed tonight?”

Balthazar put a hand to his chest, as if he were affronted.

“I’ll have you know they’re almost all grad students. And besides, just because you’re saving yourself—”

Gabriel spluttered.

“Saving- I am not saving myself, fuck you!”

“You know, Gabriel, dear, that’s the second time tonight you’ve said that, but incest is a little too rich for even my hedonistic blood, I’m afraid,” the younger angel teased. “Now why don’t you be a lamb and go mix drinks for our guests.”

Gabriel’s amber eyes narrowed, though in the end he just huffed petulantly and did as requested.

It was a distraction, at least.

But Gabriel’s eyes were immediately at the door the second Sam Winchester stepped over the threshold.

The blinking of Christmas lights illuminated the planes of his face, first on one side, then the other, and it was oddly riveting. Not that Sam wasn’t oddly riveting in and of himself, but that was different. It was more the vision of color and light that had Gabriel staring like an idiot until a pretty redhead asked if he was going to hand her her appletini or what.

With an absent nod, Gabriel gave her the drink, picked up his own, which, while still cold, had lost most of its ice, and gravitated towards Sam.

“Never seen you in my house before,” Gabriel commented, taking a sip of his ‘sugar-laden monstrosity’ of a cocktail.

Sam took a moment to search for who was addressing him, and had to adjust his gaze downward. Gabriel kept up a cheesy grin, and Sam looked unimpressed, but in an amused way.

“Do you feed everyone that line, or…?” he asked, the smirk on his face dangerously close to hinting at his dimples.

“Only the cute ones,” the archangel assured him with a wink. “I’m Gabriel by the way.”

The brunette nodded.

“Sam.”

“Well, Sammy-boy, would you like a drink?” Gabriel offered with a wave of his free hand.

Sam opened his mouth and shifted on his feet. He looked to be about to protest, but after looking into Gabriel’s eyes he swallowed and seemed to change his mind.

“Sure, uh… What’s cold?”

“Well, to be honest, pretty much everything.”

Gabriel gestured to the partial-bar set up, and Sam whistled.

“Wow. You weren’t kidding,” the brunette muttered.

Gabriel pressed a hand to his heart, and gave a mockingly affronted gasp.

“First thing you need to know about me, Sambo,” he said solemnly. “I never kid.”

Sam didn’t appear to believe him. Gabriel smirked. Smart boy. Not that he expected any less, Sam was stubborn, not stupid. Well, maybe he was stupid sometimes, but only in the best way. When he wasn’t off setting off Apocalypses with his brother.

“I’ll just have a glass of wine, your uh… Bar looks busy,” Sam pointed out.

Gabriel tilted his head, but it was true. Balthazar was mixing and pouring and flirting up a storm. The archangel wondered if maybe his joke about how many of the partygoers would end up in Balthazar’s bed wasn’t actually much of a joke. With a sigh and a roll of his amber eyes, which switching between more red and more blue with the blinking of the lights, he snagged a good bottle of wine and a wine glass and poured Sam a drink.

“Here you go, Sasquatch. Wanna find somewhere a bit less… Whatever this is, to stand around?” he offered.

Sam nodded, then gestured with his glass to a less crowded corner. Once the two of them were safely tucked away from the bustle of the party, Sam looked around at the house itself. Gabriel watched his hazel eyes flick over the interior architecture, which he himself honestly couldn’t care less about. And then the brunette tipped his head, a bit like a curious puppy.

“So what… What is that thing?” he asked, pointing to a shimmering object resting on hooks on the wall.

Gabriel took a sip of his drink and leaned forward a bit to study it. Long, silver, pointed at one end. His heart lurched hard in his chest. That was an archangel blade. What was that doing in his practice? It was bad enough that he still had to carry his own around, but for it to be flaunted on the wall like a trophy? He could still feel silvery ice pressing into his side.

The world tipped, hard.

Gabriel tripped and blamed it on the alcohol. Sam hooked an arm around his middle to halt his fall and haul the archangel to his feet again. But Balthazar was over next to him in an instant, and Gabriel was never so grateful for the blond’s inexplicable appearance in the illusion.

“I have to—Bathroom,” Gabriel stammered, heart pounding hard against his ribs. “Bal, can you—?”

The blond just smirked, raising a hand in understanding. As Gabriel rushed up the stairs, clutching his chest, he vaguely heard Balthazar introducing himself and had an odd sinking feeling in the lower right half of his frontal lobe that told him he had made a bad decision. But it was too late and he couldn’t breathe.

With a slam, Gabriel locked himself in the bathroom, thanking his lucky stars that no one was already in there. He took a shuddering inhale, resting the back of his head against the door.

“Fuck me sideways,” he gasped out, trying in vain to laugh at his own idiocy. “Come on, chowderhead.”

It took a full five minutes before he was able to stand upright, and another three to fix his disheveled hair back into its casually-swept-back style. Someone had been knocking incessantly on the door for the last minute of that time, but Gabriel knew better than to rush himself. After splashing some water on his face and checking the mirror one more time, the archangel threw open the door and was shoved aside by a man in what probably had once been a nice button-up.

The door slammed, and Gabriel was in the hallway, alone.

He sighed. And then there was a little pitter-patter of tiny paws.

“Rugby! What’re you doing here?” Gabriel asked, voice pitching up in pleased surprise.

The Jack Russell wagged his tail, arching his neck a little. Gabriel picked the little black and white dog gently.

“Hey, buddy… It’s been a while, hasn’t it…?”

In response, the dog just burrowed his head into Gabriel’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess it would be kinda loud around here for you,” the archangel answered. “Why don’t you gco hide out in my room?”

The dog squirmed and Gabriel set him back down, watching with soft golden eyes as the little guy trotted into his room. Then the archangel closed the door gently, to muffle any outside noise. With a grin, he dusted off his hands and turned back towards the party.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Balthazar was nowhere to be seen. But Sam was waiting dutifully, holding a glass of something dangerously clear and swaying from side to side with the music. He was almost a head taller than everyone else in the room. Gabriel, deciding he needed another drink, grabbed a newly-finished cocktail from the hands of whichever guest had decided to fill in as drink mixer and headed back over to Sam.

“What on earth are you drinking?” the archangel demanded outright. “That is _not_ what I left you with.”

Sam blinked, looking down into his glass like he was seeing it for the first time.

“Oh,” he said. “Balthazar gave me a… A thingie. Of stuff.”

Well, that was coherent. Gabriel squinted, getting up on his tiptoes to study Sam’s face.

“Are you drunk, Sasquatch?”

The brunette just shrugged sloppily, lips pushing into a half-pout. Gabriel swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut to remember that perspective was important and that people could not legally consent when they were completely smashed. That done, he offered Sam an insincere, winning smile.

“I think you’ve had enough, Sambo,” he decided, easing the glass of Dad-knew-what from Sam’s hand.

“Fun-sucker,” the brunette grumbled in response.

With two half-finished drinks occupying his hands, Gabriel could only pull a baffled, slightly-worried face since he couldn’t risk gesticulating and sloshing alcohol all over the fluffy ivory carpet.

“Uh… What was that?”

Sam’s sullen grumpy face was back in full force.

“You sucked all the fun away. Fun-sucker,” he explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Gabriel pressed his lips together and tried to school himself out of laughing.

“I might be a fun-sucker, but you’re three sheets to the wind, kiddo,” the archangel managed at last.

“Don’t call me kiddo,” Sam huffed. “I’m big.”

“Yes,” Gabriel agreed, reaching up to pat the brunette on his strong shoulder. “Yes you are. But you’re also being ridiculous and petulant.”

Sam’s lower lip jutted out a bit farther.

“So? Don’t use big words when I’m drunk.”

Gabriel shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. He slapped Sam on the back lightly, and sighed.

“You got a ride home, Sambo?”

Sam’s brow furrowed as he thought, and then he shook his head and his brown hair swished from side to side.

“No, I… I walked from the…” he frowned, gesturing vaguely. “The place.”

Ah, yes, the place. Helpful. But Gabriel found himself amused nonetheless. He’d never encountered Sam drunk before, and it was something of a treat. And without being able to give reliable directions, Sam would probably have to stay.

“Why don’t you go crash in one of the spare bedrooms, alright?”

“Fiiiine.”

Sam slouched up the staircase and Gabriel sighed appreciatively, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I hate to see him go, but I love to watch him leave.”

The rest of the night was a candy-colored blur.

 

Gabriel squinted blearily against the sun’s assault on his eyelids. The carnage from the party was widespread but expected. Overturned bottles of vodka, empty. Cocktail glasses and whiskey tumblers stacked precariously on every solid surface. An upended red stiletto that looked really familiar. Gabriel made a mental note to give it back to whoever had lost it, the second he remembered whose it was.

And then he shook his head hard to gain a little distance from the illusion. Extract himself from the scenario, a bit. Practice, he was practicing.

The point was that it was much too early to worry about any sort of mess, so the Trickster dragged himself up the stairs and into his room.

His brow furrowed.

“Someone’s been sleeping in my bed,” he recited with only a hint of early-morning slurring, ruffling a hand through his golden-brown hair. “And they’re still here.”

Sam was sprawled crookedly across the top of the comforter, one arm hanging off the edge of the bed and the other bunched around a fistful of pillow. Rugby was curled up in the hollow of the brunette’s lower back, snoring lightly.

The archangel sighed, shaking his head but grinning like a fool.

The noise woke up Rugby, who lifted his head and cocked it to the side. Upon looking up at Gabriel, the dog leapt up excitedly, and trotted across Sam’s butt and down his legs. The brunette rolled over due to the odd sensation and fell off the bed, taking one of Gabriel’s pillows with him. The shift in weight propelled Rugby right into Gabriel’s arms.

By the time that Sam managed to sit up, hair mussed and sticking in every direction, Gabriel was laughing so hard that he was nearly doubled over, still clutching his hapless Jack Russell to his chest.

“Where…?” Sam groaned, clutching his head with his left hand.

“Have a good sleep, Sasquatch?” Gabriel asked softly once his laughter had died away.

He set Rugby on the ground and the dog immediately trotted over to cozy up to Sam. The archangel took that distraction as opportunity to quietly snap his fingers. Then, he handed Sam the glass of water he had produced.

“Thanks,” the brunette said, voice hoarse.

He downed the glass of water in two large gulps and exhaled loudly.

“Anytime.”

Sam used the heel of his palm to push the hair from his eyes and looked around the room, squinting slightly. There were pictures hung on the wall, just little ones. Gabriel and Kali, a picture of the big extended angel family, all looking a bit uncomfortable and strange.

“Sorry, I… Is this your room?” Sam asked. “God, I’m sorry.”

“No harm no foul, Sambo,” Gabriel promised, extending a hand to help haul the giant to his feet. “It was a bit of a pleasant surprise, if anything.”

Sam choked and started coughing.

“S-sorry, _what_?” he asked after he’d caught his breath.

“Just glad you didn’t choke on your own vomit,” the archangel teased, reaching up to flick a stubborn lock of hair from Sam’s face. “ _That_ would’ve killed my buzz.”

“R-right, of course.”

The side of Sam’s face was dappled by the light peeking in past Gabriel’s blinds. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his mouth was a little slack with sleep. He was unkempt and stupid and beautiful and Gabriel felt his heart melt down into his stomach. Hopefully it would be quickly devoured by acid, but Gabriel couldn’t really count on being so lucky.

“Wanna stay for breakfast?” he offered before he even realized he had.

Sam ducked his head slightly to get a better look into Gabriel’s eyes.

“Uh… Are you sure?”

“I flip a mean flapjack.”

Sam blinked. And then he nodded.

“Um. Yeah, alright. Thanks,” he said, tone colored with surprise in a way that made Gabriel’s lips pull a tiny smile.

“Good!” Gabriel said firmly, leading the way out into the hall.

With a little skip in his step, Rugby trailed after them. Even though he cringed a bit at the state of the main room, Sam spent most of the time that Gabriel cooked admiring the kitchen. He traced his fingertips over the granite countertops and mouthed the names of the buttons on the fridge to himself. Sam was only pulled from his observation when Gabriel set a dish heaping with steaming, buttery pancakes onto the kitchen’s island. Then, he took a deep breath.

“Mmmm… These smell delicious, Gabriel.”

As soon as Gabriel supplied him with a fork, Sam dug in like a man starved. He didn’t even bother to ask for syrup, which was as good as a cardinal sin in Gabriel’s book, but he let it slide with only a stupid smile on his face as he watched the 6’4” monstrosity slouched in his kitchen devour pancakes like most other animals of prey devoured their kill.

Thankfully, it was only after they had both eaten that Balthazar walked in, which spared both Sam and Gabriel from any messy spit-takes.

“So you did get him into bed!” the blond exclaimed.

Gabriel shot Balthazar a gold-tinged death glare while Sam stared down at him questioningly.

“It’s, uh—”

“Did he make you pancakes?” Balthazar interrupted, sniffing the air. “He never makes _me_ pancakes.”

“That’s because you’re insufferable,” Gabriel huffed.

Sam just looked back and forth between the two of them, unsure who to believe or what to say.

“If you kiss him,” Balthazar tempted, “he might actually turn into a prince, who knows?”

And, to everyone’s surprise, perhaps including his own, Sam leaned down and pressed a quick peck to Gabriel’s forehead.

“Thanks,” the brunette said, clearing his throat. “For, uh… The pancakes. And looking out for me last night. I don’t usually get that drunk—”

“Wouldn’t matter even if you did,” Gabriel insisted, waving the apology away with one squared hand.

Sam smiled sheepishly, in a ‘maybe I’m still drunk’ way, even though it was clear by his hangover that he had at least recovered his vocabulary faculties.

“I should probably get back anyway, my brother will be wondering where I am,” Sam explained, pushing himself away from the island and turning towards the exit.

“Sure you don’t need a ride?” Gabriel asked hurriedly.

Sam turned back, and his smile accentuated his dimples.

“Nah. I’m fine, I can walk.”

“You can come back any time,” said Gabriel. “Really, Sammy-boy.”

Sam nodded, waved, and stepped out of the house.

“See you around,” he said as a form of farewell, in the sort of tone that implied that yes, they would be seeing one another again.

Gabriel rested his elbows on the counter and his head on his hands, and let out a content sigh. Balthazar opened his mouth.

“Don’t wanna hear it, bro.”

And with a playful smirk, Gabriel snapped his fingers before Balthazar could come up with a retort.


	7. And the Rose Goes To...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scandals abound on the newest season of everyone's favorite reality dating show.  
> The Bachelor AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, finals totally killed me. And I'm not sure if this is all that accurate, I only watch The Bachelor accidentally, and I have no idea how filming a TV show works. Hopefully the fluff makes up for all that...?

Gabriel looked up at the late afternoon sky, resting his hands behind him on the stone bench he had materialized on.

“I knew I’d find you slacking off out here.”

Gabriel thought to himself that that was a little unfair, considering he hadn’t even been in the new scene long enough to really slack off yet.

“Hey, bro,” he greeted Balthazar, a sardonic twist to his smile.

“You know we have to do a few more interview scenes before the girls arrive,” the blond angel said huffily, pointing at the Rolex on his wrist.

“Sure,” Gabriel agreed, placing his hands on his knees and moving to stand. “But first you’re going to tell me what you’re doing here, Bal.”

Balthazar looked unimpressed.

“I’m the host of the show, of course. You can’t have The Bachelor without its host, Gabriel.”

Amber eyes narrowed, and Gabriel gave his brother a burning look, the one that screamed archangel, weapon of heaven, not to be trifled with. As lackadaisical as Gabriel could be, and as much as he liked to play the carefree Trickster, there was a point he was not willing to be pushed past. He’d had enough.

“I mean you, Balthazar, angel to angel. What are you doing here, in my little toybox?” he demanded. “You’re dead.”

Balthazar nodded, eyes going a bit distant, and rubbed the heel of his hand against his sternum in a way that made the hair on Gabriel’s arms prickle with familiarity. Short, squarish fingers probed at his own side before the archangel realized they were both remembering the kind of cool kick of a deathblow from an angel blade.

Balthazar seemed to notice too, and laughed hoarsely.

“You know what I mean, don’t you?” the blond asked. “I’m just trying to be helpful is all. We’re still playing by your rules, Gabriel, you’re the archangel here.”

It wasn’t much of an answer, but Gabriel decided to accept it.

“Alright fine. But no funny business, Bal, that’s my job,” he ordered.

Balthazar gave a mocking half-salute.

“Now hurry up, how on earth are we going to get our high-drama Bachelor-falls-for-cameraman story if you’re not behind the camera?”

And even though he would never admit it, except that yes he would because Gabriel had a hard time shutting up about Sam Winchester, the image of that stupidly beautiful moose man in an expensive fancy tux instead of his fakey “fed threads” was enough to get his feathery ass in gear. Gabriel realized whilst jogging back towards the front of the mansion that he was clad in a comfy staff tee and jeans, just the way he liked it.

He stopped short with a gasp when the earnest Bachelor himself came into view.

Sam, unaware of his own sparkly beauty as usual, just shot Gabriel a wide-eyed look of surprise. And then he took two long strides forward and offered a hand to shake.

“Hi, you must be one of the cameramen. I’m Sam.”

“Oh, we all know who you are, Sambo,” replied Gabriel with a wink, clasping the brunette’s hand and giving it a hardy shake. “Even if I personally wasn’t around for some of the earlier filming. Much to my regret.”

Sam laughed like he thought Gabriel was joking, and the angel-turned-cameraman didn’t move to correct him.

“But yes, I’m one of the cameramen; name’s Gabriel.”

“So, uh…” Sam ran a hand through his hair, suddenly going nervous. “What’s the plan again?”

“Well, we’ve gotta take you into the interview room, get your pre-meeting jitters down on camera and all that. Audiences love a shy man; sweet and innocent to contrast some of the harpies we’re sending your way. Just emote and I’ll take care of the rest!” Gabriel assured him.

Sam nodded, pursing his lips as if he were troubled.

“Harpies…?”

Gabriel’s golden eyes flicked up to meet anxious hazel, and he offered a tender smile.

“Just a figure of speech, Sasquatch. Trust me, you’ll be fine. And if there _are_ any bad apples, I’ll give you a cue. Like uh…” the angel pulled a face, closing his right eye and sticking out his tongue, then whipped his hand back and forth in front of his throat, “That. For example.”

Sam dissolved into laughter at that, and Gabriel considered his job well done. He slapped the Bachelor on the back, then gestured towards the villa doors. Sam nodded, eyes still sparkling with the afterglow of mirth, and entered the building.

Once they reached the red-curtained interview room, Gabriel fussed with the camera a bit to get the settings just right. It was also an excuse to get a little more time looking at Sam before the invasiveness of being filmed affected him.

“So, I just…?”

“Talk. Yeah. It’s fine, shows like this aren’t live, we can cut any really bad flub-ups. Think of me as… Your personal video diary!”

Sam smiled, a little anxiously, and nodded. Then, with a wave of his hand, Gabriel started the camera rolling.

“I, uh…” Sam looked down and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “I guess I’m a little nervous. I’m not sure what all the women coming will be like. But I think I’m ready for this, if that makes any sense. I… I’m ready to be happy again.”

The shy grin he shot the camera would be a crowd-pleaser, Gabriel was sure of it. How anyone wouldn’t immediately fall for the way Sam’s eyes sparkled when his smiles were genuine, well, the archangel didn’t know.

“I’m pretty lucky that I’m going to be having so much help trying to find love, so I’ll do my best to make the most of it,” Sam concluded.

With another wave of the hand, Gabriel cut filming.

“There you go. See, you didn’t mess up once,” he exclaimed. “Trust me, the audience is gonna love you.”

Sam shrugged, but the glow of his face told how pleased he was.

“So…” he said, letting out a deep breath. “Tonight’s the night, huh?”

“Don’t worry so much,” Gabriel told him reassuringly. “Bal might be a jerk, but he’s a good show host, he won’t let you flounder. And I’ll be there the whole time.”

Sam blinked, hazel eyes going a little wide and innocent. They looked bright, and Gabriel had to force himself to break their gaze.

“You will?” the Bachelor asked hesitantly.

“Sure thing, Sambo. I’m assigned to you specifically. Wherever you go, I go.”

There was still a few more hours before any of the women were to arrive. Gabriel spent that time inspecting equipment. Sam, who was still a bit jittery, decided to follow him. Though he never admitted to it particularly, the archangel was enormously pleased with the arrangement. They chatted a bit, complained about their respective brothers. Sam asked a lot of questions about the cameras themselves, claiming he had a little bit of experience in theatre tech.

They’d just barely finished preparations when Balthazar herded Sam out into the villa’s drive to wait for limos carrying his potential brides-to-be. Gabriel, ever a hard worker of course, set up his camera. Balthazar gave a dramatic spiel no one but the audience would care about, and soon the first limo was opening its door to reveal a tall, shapely woman.

Her dark hair was done up in an elaborate bun made of hundreds of little cornrow braids. Her dress was long and red and probably as modest as any of the cocktail dresses or evening gowns on the show would get. She walked up to Sam confidently, introduced herself as Theresa, an appellate lawyer, and offered a brown hand decked in silver rings for Sam to shake. He did so, a bit dazzled. Gabriel tried not to snicker.

Though he would prefer Sam to be dazzled by him, the expression of awe on the brunette’s face was suitably adorable no matter who was causing it. Theresa smiled toothily and departed into the villa. Her appearance was followed, one-by-one, by several more fancily dressed women. Each made an interesting entrance and more than a few had some… Quirky introductions.

But it was worth it both for the dazzling and fashionable parade itself and for the multitude of expressions that overtook Sam’s features. Gabriel nodded in agreement with himself as a blonde CEO named Ashley trotted into the villa.

The next girl to step out of a limo was one Gabriel recalled, with a fond but devious smile, from Belle Plains. Like the others, she was all done up: hair curled, fancy blue evening gown. Unlike some of the others, she didn’t look quite as elegant in heels. She stumbled once, just out of the door, then took long, firm strides to try and keep herself balanced, and her pace ended up looking almost angry. However, as Gabriel zoomed the camera in on the woman and Sam, she bit her lip and any illusion of roughness was gone.

“Hi,” she said awkwardly.

“Hello,” answered Sam.

“Sorry, can… Can I hug you? Tall people always give the best hugs.”

Gabriel had to stop himself from making an audible noise of agreement. While most of his height “problems” had to do with the fact that a small stature made people underestimate him and that his vessel was several thousand years old, from the time when people generally didn’t clear the 6’ mark, he did have to admit that the idea of being held close by someone much taller than him was comforting somehow.

After a very brief introduction that he missed whilst daydreaming about hugs from Sam, the girl from Belle Plains had gone into the villa. There were three more women after her, each of which Sam greeted kindly and with his signature charming smile.

“Well,” Balthazar asked, stepping back into frame, “what do you think?”

Sam laughed softly.

“I, uh… I think it’s going to be a fun night.”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” the blond angel agreed, nodding.

They turned to enter the villa and Gabriel switched off his camera. Then he hauled it over his shoulder and hurried after the two of them.

There were already cameras filming the meet and greet party by the time that the three of them arrived. Balthazar stopped off only to greet everyone and announce that the first rose ceremony would be in a few hours, before he headed to… Well, Gabriel wasn’t sure. Off to do something scandalous most likely.

Before he left, he handed two red roses, all but stemless, to Sam.

“You can hand these out to whoever you want. They’ll guarantee she moves forward, so she won’t have to go through the rose ceremony. Got it?”

Sam nodded, dark hair bouncing slightly.

Gabriel smiled to himself, just the slightest, and set up his camera while looking around at the party.

The gowns were nice and glittery and the ladies were just the slightest bit giggly from the champagne, the perfect dramatic concoction for shitty reality TV. And then there was Sam, Good Guy Extraordinaire, taking a few minutes to speak with each woman individually. Sitting next to them, listening attentively and speaking when appropriate, placing one of his large hands on their knee if they appeared comfortable with the contact – and most were. He even exchanged a few chaste kisses with some of the bolder ladies.

And since Gabriel had been specially assigned the camera that kept track of the Bachelor’s whereabouts, he was privy to it all. Not that it hurt or anything, because Sam was a gentleman and it wasn’t like the archangel could honestly hold anything against the lovely plethora of women falling head over heels for the big floppy-haired moose. Hadn’t he already done the same?

It went on that way for an hour and a half.

Though he kept the camera focused on the ladies, Gabriel’s amber eyes locked on Sam as he glanced around furtively and then slipped out the door. With a glance and a “gimme five minutes” gesture at one of his fellow camera-people, the archangel darted off after the star of their show.

He found Sam, eyes closed, slouching against the outer wall of the villa and facing the lamplit pool. His large shoulders were tense, and his head was ducked towards his chest.

“Need a break?” Gabriel asked.

Sam scrambled up, stumbling so he was no longer leaning against the wall.

“Don’t _do_ that!” he gasped out, clutching a hand over his pounding heart.

Then the brunette looked around anxiously for a camera, but Gabriel held up his hands to reassure them. No one was rolling. All the cameras were busy soaking up the tipsy antics of the women in the villa. Sam eased back against the wall with a large sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“What, not having as much fun as you thought?” Gabriel wondered, moving to lean against the wall on Sam’s right. “There’s like twenty-four total babes in there, Sammy-boy, all looking to be your One.”

Sam smiled gently, eyes on his feet, and nodded.

“Yeah, I… I know.”

Then his hazel eyes flicked up to capture Gabriel in their gaze. The archangel wetted his lips, hoping it was subtle, and tried to smirk.

“But…?” he prompted, unable to look away from the way the flickering light reflected off the pool’s surface danced across the mosaic of colors in Sam’s irises.

The Bachelor smiled a little more wryly, shrugged, and shook his head.

“It’s nothing.”

It clearly wasn’t nothing, but as the cameras weren’t rolling on the two of them, Gabriel could afford to just nod and lean the back of his head against the villa’s wall. Sam sighed, ruffled a hand through his hair. Even then it kept its artfully-tousled look, and the archangel’s mouth twisted into a slight pout because it just _wasn’t fair_. The height, and the looks, _and_ the perfect hair?

“No wonder Luci wanted you for a vessel so bad, kiddo,” Gabriel muttered under his breath.

“Huh?”

He pulled on a bright, cheesy smile.

“Nothing.”

Sam nodded absently, then sighed again.

“I guess it’s just the cameras. It’s… Suffocating,” he admitted, rubbing his arms. “I’m not used to it yet.”

“If it’s any consolation, Sambo, you definitely didn’t _look_ like you had the jitters,” Gabriel pointed out.

“It’s not,” the brunette huffed.

Gabriel pressed his lips together, trying not to smirk at the emergence of that familiar attitude. Sammy-boy just wasn’t himself without a snarky comment or two. The archangel took it as a good sign. Perhaps he’d only been too nervous before, to give Gabriel lip. Of the verbal variety, though the angel hadn’t gotten any of the literal sort either.

“Someone’s grumpy,” he teased. “Do you need to cool off? We do have a pool.”

Gabriel made a wide, theatrical motion towards the water. Sam shot him a thin-lipped, annoyed look, but it only pleased the archangel all the more. His eyes lit up butterscotch even as his heart tapped an energetic beat in his chest. At last, Sam sighed and shook his head.

“It is a nice pool,” he admitted.

“Shame no one’s using it, really,” commented Gabriel in agreement.

He realized half a second from hitting the shimmering blue water that he had walked right into that one. A gigantic splash echoed through the courtyard, but only Sam was there to hear it, and he was laughing like a child. The archangel half wished that they _were_ being filmed, if only to immortalize that laugh, which made so few appearances in the real world.

Spluttering, Gabriel made his way to the surface, resting his forearms on the edge of the pool and gazing up at Sam with glowing golden eyes, trying and utterly failing to look put out. With a tiny, smug grin, Sam reached a long, muscular arm down for Gabriel to take hold of and climb out. The angel-slash-cameraman had an entirely different idea. His trickster grin made a second-long appearance before he gripped the brunette’s arm with both hands and hauled him into the pool as well.

When Sam broke the surface of the water, he made a point to splash Gabriel in the face. The archangel took it in stride and gifted him with a toothy grin. Then the two of them hauled themselves out of the pool, darting glances at each other to make sure they wouldn’t get shoved back in.

Once they were both on solid ground again, Gabriel slicked his hair back into its proper position, then tried to wring out his shirt. Sam just spread his arms and looked down at his soaked tux. The archangel attempted not to give away that he felt just a tiny bit bad for ruining it.

“Oh, the—”

And then Sam was digging in his pocket. He let out a large sigh of relief after pulling out two sodden roses out.

“Well,” the brunette muttered. “At least I didn’t lose them.”

Gabriel laughed, loudly. The roses did look especially pathetic, having been small in Sam’s hands even before their impromptu bath.

“You haven’t handed them out yet?” the angel asked.

Sam frowned thoughtfully and nodded to himself.

“I uh… Here.”

Gabriel blinked, but accepted the soggy flower deftly, careful to hold it without damaging the petals.

“What- Sam, this is one of your—”

“I know.”

The brunette’s expression was a mix of guilt and embarrassment. Gabriel shook his head slowly, looking back and forth between Sam and the rose several times. Then he let a breathless laugh hit the crisp night air.

“You really are something, aren’t you?” the archangel muttered.

Sam’s eyes shimmered a bit, but he kept at least a fake smile on his face. Gabriel swallowed down the lump building in his throat by clearing it noisily.

“If you’re gonna do something like this, at least do it right,” the archangel scolded halfheartedly, pressing the rose back into Sam’s large hands.

When their fingertips touched, a shudder rolled through Sam’s shoulders. He rolled the flower gently between his fingers and nodded. Then he took a deep breath.

“Gabriel, will you accept this rose?”

The archangel huffed, nodded, held out a hand, and received the rose again.

“Course I will.”

He chanced a glance up at Sam’s face, only to find the Bachelor looking at him like he was a marvel of some sort. One of the brunette’s callused thumbs skimmed Gabriel’s cheek.

“What?” the archangel asked in a whisper.

Sam shook his head.

“You… Really are something.”

Gabriel let out a breathy laugh.

“That’s my line,” he accused, not actually sounding all that put out about it.

And then Sam’s lips were pressed against his and a large hand was threading through the dripping hair at the base of the archangel’s skull. Something in Gabriel’s chest squeezed in fondness when he realized that the kiss tasted, horribly, like the chlorinated pool water. Sam seemed to have the same thought, because when he pulled back he was letting out little breathless chuckles.

“Ew,” Gabriel summed up.

“Oh, shut up. It’s your fault.”

And then suddenly there was a chorus of gasps. A martini glass shattered on the ground. Sam and Gabriel looked towards the noise to see all of the girls and Balthazar staring at them, with half the show’s cameras pointed in their direction. Sam was still cupping the back of Gabriel’s head and looked like a deer in the headlights of a fast-moving freight engine. Gabriel looked down at his hand, still holding the rose, and felt his smile flicker.

“Sam, I—”

The brunette shook his head. Then, with a tenderness that made the archangel’s grace swell in his chest, Sam closed Gabriel’s fingers around the rose.

“No. I… I meant that.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, but definitely not to fight back tears at the power of such a small, quiet declaration in front of thirty witnesses and four filming cameras. He wondered if Sam, the real Sam, would ever say such a thing.

“Thanks,” he managed, past his dueling thoughts.

And then, eyes still closed, with the warm, safe feeling of Sam’s right hand cupping his left, Gabriel clicked the fingers of his right hand.


	8. The Games We Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God owns a pizza parlor with his four rambunctious grown sons. Sam is a sport and watches Ben while Dean and Lisa go on the town. Gabriel pops in with pizza to keep him company.  
> Childhood Friends AU

Gabriel blinked a few times to adjust to the bright light of a kitchen that smelled oh-so-deliciously of pizza. The stuff with the handmade crust, not the shitty mass-produced frozen kind. Nearby, Michael and Lucifer were arguing about something. Michael had adopted his straight-backed, imperious ‘Dad-put-me-in-charge’ posture. Lucifer, meanwhile, was scowling up at him with the kind of broody expression anti-establishment emo punk bands would sell their souls to imitate.

And then, in the space of a breath, Gabriel was slammed with a wall of memories and squeezed his eyes shut.

The fake recollections dancing around in his head were just that: fake. But they were precious too, relics from the kind of world he and especially Sam would never have. Stupid high school dances that consisted of more standing by the wall than American YA media wanted to admit, splash fights in the local pool, notches in the kitchen doorframe as Sam shot up and Gabriel tried not to be jealous. May Day baskets and walnut-crusted fingerprint cookies. The mixing scents of hot dough and handmade pizza sauce, Michael and Lucifer bickering over how much cheese to use. Raphael, arms crossed, watching over the Slice of Heaven Pizzeria register. Dad teaching him to drive.

It wasn’t all Sam that made his heart ache so beautifully as he reminisced over his fake life. Humanity was, in many ways, so very lucky. Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut because he liked them gold and not green and because the world itself wasn’t supposed to be the point anyways. The point was Sam.

Sam, who would be at Lisa Braeden’s place dutifully watching Ben while Dean and Lisa were out on a date. Sam, who was probably starving while waiting for an acceptable cheesy bribe and some company from Gabriel once the little munchkin was conked out for the night.

Then suddenly there was a person standing right in Gabriel’s bubble. The archangel blinked and looked up, finding, surprise surprise, Balthazar’s smug face.

“Balthazar,” he greeted, attempting the put-upon look Michael doled out to younger angels so well.

If Balthazar’s snort was anything to go by, Gabriel’s imitation wasn’t very on point.

“Don’t look at me like that, big brother. I didn’t kick your puppy and I sure as hell didn’t suck your boyfriend’s dick. I’m trying to help here; some appreciation wouldn’t be out of place.”

“Are you seriously talking to an archangel with that kind of attitude?” Gabriel asked, torn between annoyance and genuine admiration, as was common with people who tried to stand up to him.

“Like I told dear Raphael: bite me,” Balthazar retorted with a grin.

Gabriel shook his head, but couldn’t help the slight upward twitch of his lips when he pictured just what Raphael’s response to _that_ had been.

“Alright, Bal, you wanna be helpful then get me a p—”

“Got your special delivery right here, Captain Obvious,” Balthazar interrupted, setting a warm pizza box in Gabriel’s waiting hands. “Now hurry up and go make out with your human boy t—Oh, hell.”

“Bal—”

“Gotta split, darling, or this’ll get really awkward really quick. Catch you later.”

With a familiar flapping of wings Balthazar was gone. Not just vanished from the scenario itself, either. Gabriel felt the blond angel’s presence, the sort of prickly feeling of being watched by him, lift from the back of his mind. Only to be replaced by a slightly different but comparable feeling.

Someone else was spying on him instead, it seemed.

But though Gabriel glanced around, the other angel wasn’t showing themselves. Gabriel frowned. Spectators were, well… Not what he wanted. But all the same, it wasn’t as if the archangel was ashamed of his big fat crush on Sam and if Lucifer hadn’t already trumpeted it from the highest to the lowest heaven, it would be a Dad-damned miracle.

“Fine!” he called to no one. “Knock yourself out. But try anything and I’ll be on you like white on rice! Like low self-esteem on a Winchester!”

That said, Gabriel rolled his golden eyes and tossed his head and hopped in a dorky-looking beat up Toyota to deliver himself a pizza. Another wave of memories washed over him as he pulled out into the street and started driving. Unlike the first set, these were all about Sam. Sam picking fights with bullies to protect smaller children, Sam bringing home a shivering puppy and begging Gabriel to hide it in his treehouse until he’d convinced John to let him keep it, Sam sitting in the school library tapping a pen against his lip as he considered another student’s rough draft. Sending texts to Sam every five seconds during their graduation ceremony while he was sitting up on stage being valedictorian and trying to act serious. Sam and Gabriel learning to ride bikes together. The two of them laughing as Gabriel tried, with patently poor results, to teach Sam how to draw.

Before he knew it, Gabriel was parked outside the Braeden house, staring at the door from his car like some lovelorn rom-com loser. Shaking his head, the archangel snatched up the pizza and rushed to the door. Then he rapped on it sharply before he could lose his nerve like an idiot.

By the time Sam opened the door, Gabriel had arranged himself in a casual slump against the frame, ankles crossed and pizza box balanced on the palm of one hand like a waiter at some fancy restaurant.

“Well, well,” he commented. “A babysitter. You know, Sambo, what with me being the pizza man, this kinda reminds me of a porno that Cassie—”

“Gabe! Jesus. Ben’s asleep, but that’s no excuse,” the brunette scolded, cheeks flaring red.

Trying to hold onto a scowl, Sam tugged the pizza away from Gabriel and flipped the top to check that the toppings were acceptable.

“It’s Veggie Lover’s, cross my heart,” the archangel told him with a dramatic flourish. “Even if that’s a sin against the gods of pizza.”

Sam just rolled his eyes and turned to go back into the house. Gabriel stayed in the doorway, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. After a few steps, Sam glanced back.

“So, are you coming in or what?” he demanded.

Face lit up like the sun, Gabriel scampered into the house and closed the door behind him. Then he followed Sam to Lisa’s well-lit kitchen and watched the brunette just set the box on the table, open it up, and start tearing into the cheesy goodness inside. Sam, Gabriel remembered from both his faux-memories and his hundred days in Mystery Spot, would usually be the type to argue for proper eating technique, dishes, the whole shebang. But something about sitting nights and the godly scent of Slice of Heaven Pizza seemed to narrow the brunette’s concerns to calculating and enacting the most efficient route between food and mouth.

And Sam Winchester cramming his face full of faux-healthy pizza was admittedly an amusing, even pleasant, sight. One Gabriel wanted to file away. When it came to the dynamic idiot duo, Dean was the one who usually went face-first into whatever sustenance was available. Seeing Sam relish any sort of food the same way did Gabriel’s little angelic heart good. Chin cupped in his palms and elbows on the table like a heathen, the archangel watched Sam eat with a glowing fondness in his amber eyes.

When he noticed, Sam almost choked on the cheesy glob of pizza in his mouth, and swallowed it down harshly.

“So…” the brunette said, clearing his throat. “Did… You want any of this…?”

Gabriel just laughed.

“No, Sasquatch. I don’t want any of your blasphemy pizza.”

Sam nodded and scratched the back of his neck. His eyes darted between the remaining slices of pizza, Gabriel’s guiltily amused look, and an empty corner of Dean and Lisa’s kitchen.

“Is…? I mean, I feel bad that I’m the only one eating… I’ll pay Lisa back for whatever, if you want to eat something,” he offered, gesturing at the fridge.

“’s fine, really,” the archangel assured him, waving his worries away. “Mike and Luci messed up on someone’s order when they were tussling, so I snagged three or four slices on my way out the door.”

Sam sighed, shaking his head at the brothers’ antics.

“Can’t they, I dunno, get over themselves?” the brunette wondered, rolling his eyes and taking another large bite of pizza, after which he moaned audibly. “God, this is delicious.”

“They’re too busy giving your taste buds orgasms, apparently,” Gabriel teased.

Sam glared at him, though it was completely halfhearted. The archangel tossed his head, far more pleased with himself than Sam seemed to think he ought to be.

“Dude,” Sam said, after swallowing another large bite of pizza, “the _last_ thing I want to picture is your douchey brothers giving me orgasms.”

“Wow, we have so much in common!” exclaimed the archangel. “No wonder we’re best friends!”

“Gabe.”

But the brunette’s flat expression did nothing to deter Gabriel.

“Saaaaam.”

“Ok, that’s it.”

Sam tossed down the half-eaten slice of pizza and advanced on Gabriel. Before the archangel could even make it out of his chair, the brunette had an arm looped around his neck and was rubbing his knuckles harshly against the top of Gabriel’s head, mussing his hair into an irreparable state.

“Ow, ow, Saaaam!” the angel whined, squeezing his golden eyes shut. “Not the hair! We’re not in fourth grade here, you know!”

Sam released him, laughing the same way he did whenever he’d successfully pulled one over on Dean during a prank war.

“ _I’m_ not,” he said, settling back in his seat and taking up his unfinished slice of pizza victoriously. “But I have a hard time believing you’re any older than ten.”

Then, to add insult to injury, the brunette bit off a large chunk of pizza to punctuate his statement. Gabriel didn’t pout, but Sam would have said otherwise.

“Real mature, Sasquatch,” he muttered, trying to fix his hair.

“Says the guy who superglued Dean’s butt to the bleachers in sophomore year,” retorted Sam.

A slow smile spread across the archangel’s face, and he made a mental note to remind himself later that the classics were still worth using every so often, even if they were a bit overdone.

“Good times,” Gabriel said absently.

And of course Sam would wait til he was off his guard to ask the hard-hitting questions.

“Hey, Gabriel, is… Is something wrong?”

The archangel choked on his breath and spluttered ungracefully for a few seconds.

“Why do you ask, Sambo?” he retorted once his airways were clear.

Sam shrugged, and Gabriel fixed him with an accusing golden stare from across the table.

“Alright, alright,” Sam acquiesced. “So, I just think you’ve been a little quiet lately, that’s all. I mean, look, if it’s something you wanna keep to yourself I get it, but…”

Standing and pacing somewhat agitatedly, the brunette trailed off.

“But?”

“But, I’m here for you, man! I mean, whatever it is…”

Gabriel stood too, finding only afterwards that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. He slicked his hair back just to keep them busy, and tried to decide about whether to lie or not. Lying was easier, certainly. Especially with all the fake memories creating a pit of nervous warmth in his chest. Truthfully, Gabriel had never really had a friendship close enough to make him worry about ruining it with sex or romance. But apparently tropes were tropes for a reason.

On the other hand, he had created this scenario specifically to facilitate asking Sam on a date. And what kind of idiot would he be if he couldn’t at least get the words out when he honestly had nothing to lose?

“Look, Gabe, you’re my best friend,” Sam assured him. “You can tell me anything.”

“Yeah. I… I know.”

Sam’s big, warm hands were heavy on his shoulders. Heavy, but comforting. It was a kind of weight Gabriel hadn’t felt in millennia, not since he had stood side-by-side with his three fellow archangels, his brothers. It was the weight of someone saying I’m here for you, I’m here to take care of you. It was the kind of thing Gabriel knew that he didn’t deserve, or that he should have been strong enough to go on without. That he, the archangel, the protector, should be the one offering support.

But it was so soothing to be fragile and human and vulnerable when Sam looked down at him with shimmering tenderness, flecks of brown dancing in the blue-green of his irises.

“But, uh… Really, you don’t have to,” Sam backpedaled earnestly. “If you don’t want to.”

“I think I,” Gabriel blurted out, before he realized what he had done and faltered, the rest of the sentence falling flat.

“Yeah…?”

And though it wasn’t what he intended to say, something else equally as scandalous vacated Gabriel’s mouth without permission when Sam stared him down with that puppy-dog gaze.

“I wanna kiss you.”

There was a long silence. Gabriel’s heart was pounding in his chest and though he was an archangel and a trickster and something to be feared, he was coiled like a terrified rabbit. Waiting for the slightest indication of negativity from Sam, any sign he should snap his fingers and jump ship while he still could.

“You want to kiss me?” Sam asked softly, gently.

The brunette shifted slightly, so he was curled at Gabriel’s side, hands still on the angel’s shoulders to keep him at ease. His tone was simply asking for confirmation. There was nothing threatening, nothing disgusted.

“Yes,” said Gabriel, who was having a hard time remembering how to lie with 6’4” of pure American sex god looking at him from the right and smiling encouragingly.

“Why?”

Just like he had when asking the question before it, Sam kept his voice level and soft. He wasn’t giving anything away, and Gabriel _hated_ that even as somewhere in the back of his brain he found himself impressed at Sam’s poker face.

“Wh- I… I want,” the angel struggled, gesturing between the two of them to expend some of his nervous energy. “I want us to… I want to be…”

Sam didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to interpret, and Gabriel let out a frustrated huff. The brunette continued to smile, though it looked a little more teasing.

“I like you, idiot,” Gabriel blurted out. “And I mean the way Castle likes Beckett, or the way your brother likes his car, not the way Captain America likes Black Widow.”

That at least broke Sam’s wall of silence, sending him into peals of laughter. And though the phrasing and the jab at Dean were funny enough, Gabriel could be forgiven for being a little impatient for Sam’s response to the revelation that his best friend was super bi for him. As if sensing this, though Sam having empathetic spidey senses wouldn’t be exactly surprising, the brunette quieted his laughter and moved so he was facing Gabriel again.

“Is this,” Gabriel asked, having regained his ability to ramble, “the part where I backpedal wildly to try and save our friendship?”

Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“No.”

And then, without further preamble, he ruffled a hand through Gabriel’s hair and pecked him on the lips. It felt like a spark, zipping from the archangel’s lips to his brain to his heart and back.

“Oh,” he managed.

Something at the back of his mind was nagging him that his coherency and suaveness had taken a serious nosedive and he really ought to get on that, but the look in Sam’s eyes was impossibly disarming. Which was of course totally unfair, when he thought about it. No one should have gazes that potent, they were too much power for any one man.

But, Gabriel considered, he might as well take advantage of his good fortune. So he leaned up and kissed Sam again, for longer.

“So… You’ve known me for how long now?” the brunette asked quietly when they parted. “And you were that scared of having a… A crush on me?”

“Don’t be a dick,” Gabriel muttered, sticking out his tongue.

“No,” agreed Sam with a nod, “that’s your job.”

The archangel laughed.

“Touché.”

And if they moved to sit on the living room to couch, deserting Sam’s half-eaten pizza on the kitchen table, that was no one’s business. It was especially no one’s business if Gabriel indulged in human vulnerability one more time and asked Sam to hold him.

Gabriel just tried to block everything out except the sound of Sam’s heart and the support of his arms, especially the encroaching presence that had scared Balthazar out of the picture. It was an experience he wanted to file away, in case he failed spectacularly when he managed to find the balls to talk to Sam for real. Which, given the circumstances of his first attempts was completely likely.

But hey, Gabriel was a master at beating the odds, right?

He consoled himself with that until the sound of a car in the driveway jostled him from his thoughts. Even though he’d only heard it a few times, that particular rumble was unmistakable: the Impala. Dean and Lisa were back.

Sam released him to go box up the pizza. Silent, Gabriel watched the muscles in the brunette’s back and shoulders shift and flex beneath his shirt as he moved. The lock on the front door clicked.

Taking that as his cue, Gabriel snapped his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really wanted the archangels to have a family pizza parlor, alright? I also give people my permission to make that into like a full AU because that’d be rad, just like… You know, mention me and my fic if you do. I might actually end up doing it myself if I ever finish this dang fic, because I’m getting attached to a few of these AU ideas and I’d really love to give them their own stories and flesh them out a little more.


	9. They Call Them the Dog Days of Summer for a Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel finds himself inadvertently reenacting a scene from 101 Dalmatians. He also finds himself ok with that.  
> Dog Owners AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we just passed the quarter-way mark for the series. Exciting, right? There are still about 5 AU slots open, which can go pretty much anywhere in the story, so don't be shy if there's something you wanna see!

Everything was green and warm; a park in summer. Gabriel took in a deep breath. Small-town park, clearly, as there was no smog in the air. Just a fresh, cool breeze, the way Gabriel liked it. A bark interrupted his musing, and Gabriel looked down. Rugby, tail wagging so hard that his whole butt wiggled with it, barked again.

“Hey little buddy,” the archangel cooed, hauling the dog into his arms.

The buzz of angelic grace given off by whoever was spying on him was low-key and irritating. Like a gnat, or those stupid mosquito buzzers meant to annoy teenagers into submission. And yet he couldn’t put a finger on the grace’s frequency, couldn’t match a name to the intruder. Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, took ten seconds to try and block out the noise, and let out a loud huff of frustration, burying his face in Rugby’s wiry fur.

Rugby whined, squirming his way out of Gabriel’s arms.

“Alright, alright,” he laughed softly, releasing the Jack Russell and grabbing his leash instead.

The dog barked, then hurried off into the park, tugging insistently on the leash. Gabriel followed after Rugby at a leisurely pace, letting the dog’s clear happiness fill him with vicarious joy. That at least seemed to drown out the annoying background presence. They made their way through the center of the park, around the banks of its small pond.

Then, suddenly…

“Riot! No! Stop!”

There was a man-dog duo careening towards Gabriel and Rugby. The owner, a familiar moose-like brunette, was tugging backwards on the leash as hard as he could. But despite Sam’s massive frame and tight hold on the leash, he was no match for the energetic Australian Shepherd.

Gabriel braced himself for a full-on collision, but the big dog just circled around behind him, as if that could help in escaping the grip of the leash. As Sam, cursing and apologizing all at once, tried to move around Gabriel and avoid tangling them both up, Riot continued his loop, tightening his black leash around both men’s calves.

Leaning back, Sam and Gabriel tried to pull away from each other, but in the confusion Riot had circled their legs several more times with his leash and the struggling only unbalanced them. With an almighty splash, the two men toppled into the shallow end of the pond. Gabriel sat up, spluttering, and spat out a mouthful of pond water in a graceful, fountain-esque arc.

Rugby, for his part, hopped and paced on the shore, barking loudly at Sam and the Australian Shepherd, and it made the archangel laugh.

“You big weenie,” he teased, leaning to the side and stretching his arm out to pat the Jack Russell’s little head.

In the meantime, Sam had untangled himself and stood. He shook his head, spraying water in all directions, and then stepped out of the pond. After making sure Riot wouldn’t run off again, Sam turned back to Gabriel with a sheepish smile.

“Uh. Hey. Sorry about that,” the brunette said, holding out a large, dripping hand. “I’m Sam.”

“Gabriel,” the archangel responded, flicking a lock of sopping hair out of his face and accepting the extended hand. “And this little dummy is Rugby.”

Sam blinked, hauling Gabriel up out of the water with a bemused expression on his face.

“You… Named your dog after… A sport?”

“Oh, hey Pot, this is Kettle,” Gabriel said, sticking out his thumb and pinkie to mimic a phone and holding it to his ear. “Seriously, Sasquatch? No judgment calls from the guy who named his dog Riot.”

Sam shrugged, looking at his shoes and pressing his lips together to fend off a smile.

“I didn’t pick the name, my ex did. But, uh… I was just calling him ‘Dog’ before that, so I guess your point stands.”

“You bet your sweet ass it does.”

Sam’s face flared red and he fumbled, dropping Gabriel’s hand.

“Uh,” he said. “Anyway. Sorry. Have a nice day.”

With a repeated motion between ducking and nodding, Sam tugged on Riot’s leash and backed away. But then Rugby was jumping on him, nipping at the brunette’s worn-out jeans. Sam didn’t look all that troubled by the Jack Russell failing miserably at eating his leg, but Gabriel scrambled for Rugby’s leash anyway. In doing so, he slipped on the mud at the edge of the pond and stumbled forward.

The archangel had half a second to be mortified that one of his siblings was about to watch him faceplant into the grass. And then he stopped falling. Warm hands braced him just below the arms, and when he tipped his head up Gabriel got a concussion-inducing view of worried hazel eyes.

“Thanks,” the angel said, clearing his throat a little.

“Yeah, uh… No problem,” answered Sam, who had sunk down onto one knee to expedite his catch.

“Looks like I’ve fallen for you twice now,” Gabriel blurted before he had a chance to put a filter on his more tricksterish persona, the one that apparently tended to rear its head when he felt a little weak or embarrassed.

But Sam actually laughed, just a bit, as he helped set Gabriel back on his feet on the grass.

“Guess you have,” the brunette agreed.

The two men stood, staring at each other, for a long and awkward moment. Then they cleared their throats at the same time. Gabriel wrung out the bottom of his shirt onto Rugby’s head, giving Sam the verbal right-of-way.

“So… Look, I… I really am sorry,” the brunette began, carding a hand through his damp hair. “Can I, uh… Buy you a coffee to make up for it?”

Gabriel smiled up at him, pleased.

“I dunno, Sambo, a little hot out for coffee. But if you spring for a strawberry smoothie I might forgive you.”

Sam fought his returning grin for all of a few seconds, then nodded. As if agreeing, Riot cozied up to Gabriel, pressing his fluffy head against the side of the archangel’s thigh. Short fingers scratched the top of Riot’s head, and he thumped his tail three times.

Then Rugby barked to inform everyone that he was, in fact, still there.

With half a thought to offer Sam his hand to hold, Gabriel wrapped Rugby’s leash in both hands and nodded for Sam to take the lead. The four companions exited the park together and took off down the street towards the nearest chain coffee shop, the kind with a diverse enough menu to include smoothies and be filled with people wearing fashion glasses and typing away on Mac laptops. The dogs, of course, weren’t allowed inside, but Sam trusted Riot’s leash to Gabriel’s smaller hands and breezed into the shop like he handed over his dog to near strangers every day.

“Impulsive, isn’t he?” Gabriel asked Riot.

The Australian Shepherd blinked up at him lazily and let out a large yawn, showing both that he was as unworried about Gabriel’s intentions as Sam seemed to be and that he had the chomping bits to secure his own safety should Gabriel be less than a perfect, non-dognapping gentleman. The archangel chuckled to himself.

“I guess you’ve got a point.”

Eventually, legs growing tired, Gabriel sat on the curb with the two dogs. Riot, contrary to his name, seemed pleased as long as Gabriel kept scratching his ears. Rugby, on the other hand, was all over the place. Barking at passers-by, wagging his tail so hard his entire body wiggled whenever someone took the time to crouch down and pet him, and finally clambering over his new big friend. Riot didn’t even bat an eye at being tackled, and Gabriel wondered if the Shepherd had prior experience with overactive puppies or other small energetic dogs.

It was about twelve minutes later when Sam finally walked out with a pink smoothie in one hand and an iced tea in the other. He traded Gabriel the smoothie for Riot’s leash.

“Follow me,” the brunette said. “I know a good place to sit.”

So, shrugging, Gabriel followed after him, ungracefully sucking down a mouthful of strawberry smoothie. It was only as they walked that the archangel realized he’d finally dried off. All that waiting in the warm summer sunshine had erased the lingering traces of pond water from everywhere but his hair, which was still a bit damp. Gabriel blamed that on its luscious thickness, though.

Sam led the way back to the park, then over to a picnic table tastefully bordered by flowers. Gabriel was almost tempted to make a clown car joke when the brunette swung his long legs in under the tabletop, but caught it just in time. No point potentially traumatizing the adorable moose man you’re trying to get to date you, right?

Leaning to the side, Sam looped Riot’s leash around one of the table’s legs. Gabriel took the cue and did the same with Rugby’s leash. Then the archangel slid onto the bench across from Sam.

“So, Rugby, huh?” Sam asked in a way that told Gabriel he had been waiting for the right time to ask.

The little dog in question perked up his black-and-white head as he recognized his name entering the conversation.

“You might not believe this, Sambo, since I’m such a pretty face, but I used to be a rough-and-tumble sorta guy,” the archangel boasted.

“It’s a British sport, though,” protested the brunette. “I mean, why not, say, hockey?”

Gabriel could almost feel the mischievous twinkle in his eye as he smirked.

“Well, the terrier is a British dog, you know. But that’s not the real reason. Trust me, it’s a story you would never believe,” the archangel insisted, pointing the top of his drink at Sam.

“Try me,” retorted Sam, taking a sip of his iced tea and managing to scratch the top of Riot’s head without even leaning over.

“Alright, so, let me set the scene. I was young and reckless, from a very closed-off family, first time out in the big wide world, right? Had this roommate from overseas, big into sports. He convinces me taking over the school’s football field for an impromptu game of rugby is a _great_ idea.”

“Yeah, and?”

“Well, I’d never heard of the damn sport. So I figure sure, what the hell, be a good neighbor and all that. Get my _ass kicked_. Now I’m a sturdy guy, but my roommate and his Brit-wit pals? _Ruthless_. So there I am, laid up in the university hospital on the very first week of class. Big casts, leg-swing, the works. With me so far?”

Sam nodded his head, looking mildly confused.

“Yeah, ok, rugby, I get it,” he supplied. “But what about the dog?”

“Well, I never manage to save face with my roomie again, of course. He brings up the incident whenever he can. Twice a day, three on Sundays, you feel me? And then one night he and his buddies go out to play and… Their rugby ball is in tatters.”

Sam’s lips started to quirk upwards.

“You _didn’t_.”

“Nah,” he said, waving the accusation away. “I didn’t. But _they_ thought I did.”

Sam pursed his lips as if trying to imagine the scene in his head. Gabriel, for his part, straightened up, feeling probably more proud of himself than was necessary. The tinnitus of foreign angel grace blipped in again and Gabriel shook his head hard to try and dislodge it. The worst part was that he knew it was only bothering him because he couldn’t place it; like having a word on the tip of your tongue. Unsuccessful in his attempts, he tried to block it out instead by continuing the story.

“So there we all are, 2am, on the field, a literal army of these dicks closing in on me. And out of nowhere, _this_ little fuzzball rockets into the biggest one and starts trying to eat his leg,” Gabriel finished proudly. “Never been outta my sight since.”

As if aware that he’d made his narrative entrance, Rugby sat up proudly. Riot let out a little whuff of air at the display.

“Wow, you were right, Gabriel,” Sam teased. “I don’t know if I buy that.”

“Rude,” muttered Gabriel, taking a petulant slurp of smoothie. “But probably smart. Speaks for your prospects as someone who associates with me.”

“And I plan on doing that since…?” Sam questioned, quirking an eyebrow skeptically.

“Since you caught sight of my unconventional but attractive features? I’ve been told my eyes are particularly captivating,” the archangel insisted with his usual flair. “Anyway, what about Riot?”

Sam shrugged.

“Not much to tell,” he admitted bashfully. “I wasn’t planning on keeping him when I took him in; I’d hit the poor guy with my car. But I never found the owner, and Amelia got sick of me just calling him Dog, so one day she sat me down and told me ‘His name’s Riot’, and that was that.”

“You could have at least tried to come up with a story.”

“Not worth the effort, honestly.”

“Sasquatch, you are _so mean_!” Gabriel whined, though unable to keep the smile from his face.

“So, get this,” Sam replied, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the picnic table, “I don’t actually care.”

That, of all things, made laughter bubble up from Gabriel’s chest and spill out his mouth. Pleased, he took another long pull of smoothie. Rugby whined and scrambled up onto Gabriel’s lap, placing his little paws atop the table; the archangel just laughed.

“Nah, this smoothie is all mine, little buddy,” he teased, scratching the Jack Russell’s head.

“You guys seem really close,” Sam said out of nowhere.

Gabriel blinked. Then he looked back and forth between the dog in his lap and the man across from him.

“Well, we are,” he answered simply. “There’s just… Something about dogs. You can trust them.”

Averting his gaze to Riot, curled up peacefully in the picnic table’s shade, Sam nodded.

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes afterwards, finishing their drinks.

“At the risk of sounding terribly cliché,” the archangel said with a cheesy grin, curling his hands around the empty plastic smoothie cup, “do you come here often?”

Sam ducked his head.

“Every weekend, weather permitting.”

“How about,” said Gabriel, sliding Rugby off his lap and himself off the bench to stand up, “you and I meet up here on Saturday? And try not to fall in the pond this time, of course.”

The brunette glanced up, eyes expressive, but said nothing aloud. Gabriel huffed.

“I’ll come up with an even better story about how Rugby got his name,” he offered, holding out his right hand with only the pinkie finger extended.

Sam chuckled softly, nodded, and briefly linked his own pinkie with Gabriel’s.

“Saturday,” he agreed. “At 12:45. If the story’s not impressive I’m leaving.”

“Wouldn’t expect any different,” the archangel professed with a bow.

As he turned to leave, a large hand caught his wrist.

“Gabriel?”

Twisting a little to look back at Sam, Gabriel blinked his golden eyes, looking curious.

“Uh… Yeah?”

“Thank you,” the brunette said. “For this afternoon. I, uh… I haven’t had that much fun in a while.”

“Me either.”

Memorizing the sheepish but pleased look on Sam’s face, Gabriel pressed the middle finger and thumb of his free hand together.

“Catch you later,” the archangel said.

Then he clicked his fingers.


	10. What Doesn't Kill You Might Already Be Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High school haunted houses, scary clowns, and a couple of surprising reappearances...  
> Halloween AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this took so long, guys. I'll try not to go so long between chapters again, I've just been having a bit of a rough time of it. Not to mention ever since I saw BoFA I've been on a Tolkien kick...

“I should really focus on not doing this, huh,” Gabriel said aloud, to both himself and the incessant dial tone of his anonymous sibling’s grace.

‘This’, while worded vaguely, obviously referred to the sudden lighting shifts between scenarios. Instead of a sunny summer park, Gabriel was inside a dark hallway which was occasionally lit up with the flash of strobe lights. His first thought would have been ‘rave’ if not for the fakey giant-cotton-ball cobwebs and the tinny Halloween music playing over speakers he couldn’t see.

It only took a look down at himself, covered in fake blood and gore, for Gabriel to determine he was part of the haunted house, not a customer. Which, of course, made perfect sense because while he was a fan of doing the scaring, the archangel wasn’t much one for being snuck up on himself.

He was still getting his bearings when from around the corner there was a yelp, a crunch, and some very familiar accented curses. He rushed into the next hall to see Sam tensed up like a coil, Charlie wide-eyed in shock, and a scary clown in fetal position on the floor. After a few seconds he stood and behind the facepaint, clutching his nose was…

“Baldur?”

He hadn’t been expecting that, and maybe it was only his unconscious audacity that allowed him to bring in the carbon-copy of a dead Pagan for the show. Sure, in his time as Loki he’d tried to kill Baldur himself a few times, but as a Pagan god, especially one from the Norse pantheon, that was par for the course. He’d never really meant it. He hated the guy, liked to see him suffer, but nobody deserved Lucifer’s fist through their ribcage.

Gabriel blinked, shaking his head. The point was, grim extenuating circumstances aside, it was damn funny to see Baldur in a clown costume with a bloody and possibly broken nose.

“Oh god I’m so sorry…! I didn’t mean—”

“Wow, you really _don’t_ like clowns.”

Gabriel’s golden gaze slid over to the right where Sam was frantically trying to apologize and Charlie looked mildly apologetic if not suitably shame-faced.

“What happened here?” the archangel demanded.

Sam turned to him, looking desperate.

“H-he came out of nowhere, I didn’t mean to…!” the brunette insisted before holding out his hands as if to steady Baldur. “I’m so sorry, I’ll get you some ice, or—”

“Oh man, Gabe, I didn’t think he’d really _hit_ anyone,” Charlie interrupted. “Look, I’ll step in to help if you need—”

“ _Alright_ , alright, come on you three. Out the side door,” Gabriel instructed, gesturing to a fire exit covered in fake cobwebs.

After ushering them out into the mostly-empty parking lot, he snapped his fingers. His left hand dropped with the weight of a Ziploc full of ice. Much more convenient than going to get some from the school’s freezers; for a high school was indeed what it was. Then he strode over to the little group huddled on the upraised stretch of concrete under one of the parking lot’s street lamps – Gabriel made a mental note to search what the heck those were called sometime.

“Baldur,” he said, getting the injured clown’s attention before gently tossing him the ice.

“Thanks,” the dark-haired man muttered, bringing the baggy up to his swelling nose.

Sam, sitting next to him and wordlessly fretting, looked like a concerned puppy. It was both heart-melting and a little worrying at the same time, especially when his large fingers flitted over the knuckles of his right hand and Gabriel saw purplish bruises starting to form.

“I’ll get more ice,” the archangel offered, gesturing to Sam’s right hand.

Startled hazel eyes locked on him and after that galaxy-bright look Gabriel suddenly doubted whether he’d actually be able to move and follow through on the offer.

“It’s fine,” Sam responded quickly, hiding his hand with his sleeve. “Really.”

It was in that moment that Charlie piped up, twisting a strand of brilliant too-red hair between her fingers.

“Ugh, sorry, Gabe. I know how hard you and the others worked on this haunted house,” she muttered, scuffing the toe of her doodled-on Converse against the ground of the parking lot. “If I’d known Sam was gonna go all Hulk, I’d’ve brought somebody else.”

Gabriel let out a laugh, just to break the tension in the air, then waved her concerns away.

“It was an accident. Now you know not to bring gigantor here to haunted houses. Anyway we can probably leave that hall unmanned for a bit. Let people scare themselves silly waiting to be attacked,” the archangel insisted.

Charlie shrugged, huffing and ballooning out her cheeks for a moment.

“I just wanted to bring someone big to scare you,” the redhead admitted.

The archangel winked.

“Sugar, nothing scares me.”

Except, ironically, Sam Winchester. But that was neither here nor there. With a large sigh, Gabriel plopped down next to Sam and scrubbed his hands over his own face for a moment. Then, suddenly…

“Kali scares you,” Baldur piped up out of nowhere, voice muffled by his bag of ice.

“No, Kali scares _you_ ,” the archangel scoffed in return.

“She does not. Kali and I have a mutual respect for one an—”

“You’re her boytoy, Baldur. Get over it.”

“I am n— How dare—”

“I’m afraid of zombies,” Charlie burst in, tugging on the twisted strand of her hair in a nervous pattern, as if she were sending some sort of Morse code distress signal to her brain from her reddish locks.

Gabriel let out a whoosh of air, and with that the tension seemed to dissolve. The archangel smiled a bit, fondly, up at Charlie. She grinned back sheepishly. Then her eyes flicked to Sam briefly and she raised her eyebrows. A suggestion. Trust Charlie to catch on to something like that. But, Gabriel supposed, it was no secret to anyone, least of all present company, that he liked his men tall and his women dangerous.

And those of a less binary nature however they found him, of course, he thought with a smirk.

Not that anyone had _anything_ on Sam. Oh, no. Gabriel knew the first time he’d laid eyes on the strapping idiot hunter-slash-vessel that his candy-munching goose was well and truly cooked. Oh, he’d tried to deny it, but… Well, they’d all seen how _that_ worked out.

“Gimme your hand, Sambo,” Gabriel demanded, blinking hard to remove himself from stupid contemplation.

The brunette pulled his injured fist back a bit, frowning, but Gabriel was having none of that. Catching hold of Sam’s hoodie sleeve in his strong grip he tugged the arm inside until the rather large hand attached to it was spread over his own knees. Then he had to swallow hard, because Sam’s hand was intensely warm.

“Fire cannot harm a dragon,” the archangel muttered under his breath, smoothing Sam’s fingers out to get a look at the extent of the damage.

“What?”

Gabriel’s head shot up and he was once more being stared down by hazel eyes.

“Nothing,” he said instantly.

Sam’s expression turned patently skeptical, but there was a pinch of amusement in the set of his eyes and at the very edges of his lips. And, the most hopeful bit, Sam hadn’t tugged his hand away. In fact, it wasn’t even tensed, resting loosely on Gabriel’s knees as the archangel’s fingers mindlessly brushed and prodded at it to make sure bruising really was the extent of damage.

“I didn’t break anything,” Sam insisted at last, but continued to let Gabriel have his way.

“And four out of five dentists recommend Crestor, Sasquatch, but what about the fifth one? Always good to have a second opinion,” the angel retorted briskly.

Something between a cough and a chuckle hit the cool autumn air and Gabriel swore a firework had gone off in the darkness. Sam shook his head, still letting out puffs of mirth for a minute after.

“Gabe, right?” he asked quietly. “How do you and Charlie know each other?”

But before Gabriel could answer, the redhead herself cut in.

“This weirdo stumbled into the middle of a Moondoor competition by accident. I had to save him from a raving gang of Shadow Orcs,” she said, flicking a lock of hair over her shoulder majestically.

“Moondoor?” Sam asked. “Isn’t that your, uh… LARPing… Thing…?”

As he spoke, his bruised hand twitched. Gabriel was torn between feeling amused and utterly infatuated at the motion. It was clear that while Sam’s instinct was to keep using his injured hand for gesturing, he was purposely refraining from doing so as long as Gabriel wasn’t finished studying his hand for misplaced bones. There weren’t any, it seemed, but that didn’t make the archangel any less reluctant to release the brunette’s large, warm hand.

“Yeah, my _LARPing thing_ ,” Charlie agreed, rolling her eyes.

Baldur cleared his throat. Probably to remind everyone he was there. And injured. Although the reminder of that really only made Gabriel smirk like the bad child he was.

“I’m going to be… Compensated for this, yes?” he asked brusquely, mouth turned in a sour frown.

“Oh yes,” Gabriel answered, voice flippant. “Maybe double if I can see Kali’s reaction when you try to take her out looking like Grendel.”

Baldur tried to sneer, but winched as the flesh around his injured nose was tugged by the expression. He had to settle for pressing the melting ice pack more firmly against the swelling. Sam let out a wordless noise of protest and gave Gabriel a disapproving frown for his rudeness. With a wide trickster smile, the archangel ran his thumbs over the back of Sam’s hand one more time and then released him.

“Really, I can dress up and take his place,” Charlie insisted.

“It was my mistake, I’ll help. However you need,” said Sam as he took his hand back, settling it on the concrete.

“Doubt we’ve got anything in your size, Sambo,” Gabriel quipped. “Like I said, it’ll be fine. Wouldn’t wanna traumatize you by dressing you up like It over there.”

He jabbed his thumb at Baldur dismissively and shrugged. No one in the group seemed placated by the archangel’s nonchalant attitude, however. Charlie actually looked downright disapproving, which was something of a shock considering she was usually on his side about shirking the troublesome responsibilities of life.

“Come on, Gabe. I’m no stranger to fake blood,” the redhead cajoled. “Tag me in, here. It _is_ my fault your clown’s struck out.”

Stubborn, Gabriel thought fondly, and pushed himself to his feet.

“No, it’s my fault, I’m the one who punched him,” Sam sighed, standing as well.

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll press you _both_ into service, happy?”

Charlie’s bright smile and Sam’s embarrassed shrug were answer enough. Gabriel rolled his eyes. Then he tipped his chin a bit, to get Baldur’s attention.

“You should go home, Baldur. Or to an Urgent Care. You look like you need it,” he insisted, maybe just a tad mockingly. “And _you_ two hooligans are with me.”

“Fuck you, Gabriel,” Baldur muttered, but stood and headed towards his car.

No one else paid him any mind, however, because Gabriel was dragging his newest victims aka volunteers back into the school building. Five minutes later, they were suitably creepy.

“Is this really necessary?” Sam asked, studying the plastic ax in his hand, which was covered with theatre blood.

“You wound me, Samuel,” scoffed the archangel, placing a hand over his heart. “Props are essential. No get your sweet cheeks in gear and go scare some middle schoolers!”

And though he would deny it wholeheartedly to absolutely no one, Gabriel felt something warm and elated swell in his chest like a party balloon when Sam shot him that characteristic skeptical look. So he blew the fake-gore-smattered lumberjack a kiss. Charlie, in turn, smacked Gabriel on the back with all the force of a linebacker. Thankfully, he was an archangel, so it didn’t hurt.

“Not really my type, but he does have very nice eyes,” she concluded as Sam walked out into the hallway to get to his post. “Congrats, Gabe.”

And despite the itch of his sibling’s grace at the back of his skull, which he’d relegated to white noise and forgotten if only for a moment while getting Charlie and Sam gussied up, the archangel let out a longing sigh.

“Yeah, I wish, cupcake.”

“Oh please,” she huffed, waving a hand. “You’re like the real-world equivalent of what Jim Kirk is to alien chicks. He’ll come around.”

Gabriel’s lips twitched into a smile and he was tempted to pull the redhead into a headlock and give her a fond but well-deserved noogie. The only thing stopping him was the copious amount of white facepaint she was wearing, which he didn’t want anywhere near himself. While they dawdled, a few high-pitched shrieks of terror floated down the hall.

“That’ll be the next batch of customers. My lady?” Gabriel offered with a bow.

With a decidedly evil grin, Charlie stalked out into the decorated hallway. Gabriel fought back a smile halfheartedly and wiped nonexistent tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Dad bless that woman.”

And then he followed after her.

It was already nearing the end of the night when Baldur had been so _unfortunately_ injured, so the final shift wasn’t actually all that long. However, Gabriel admitted openly that what time there was had been fun. Despite his general shoulder bowing, puppy-faced demeanor, Sam’s size was more than enough to send the patrons of the haunted house running for their mommies on its own. And after a while, the ridiculous moose actually got into his role and used all 76 of those inches to their full potential. Gabriel wasn’t sure whether it was pride, amusement, or love that pressed his own mouth into a beaming smile, but he actually didn’t care.

Once the last of the customers had tricked out of the school, the archangel looped one of his arms through Sam’s and twirled the brunette about.

“You were _fantastic_ , Sammy-boy!”

But before Sam had a chance to respond, Charlie cleared her throat. Of course, after only a few seconds of tapping her foot and crossing her arms she threw herself at the both of them. Sam, as was only right for his stature, ended up supporting most of the group’s weight. They exited the building this way, laughing, and Dad strike him down if Sam’s laugh wasn’t one of the most achingly precious sounds Gabriel had ever heard.

He had an odd, startling thought that he was, in that moment, completely satisfied. Even without having really made a move on Sam, even without any sort of indication that the brunette would be willing to consider him romantically… Just having that large hand around his shoulder was enough, when Sam’s wholehearted laughter was still ringing in the night air.

And though it was strange of him, Gabriel being hardly the demure type, he popped up onto his tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to Sam’s cheek.

Knowing the laughter would stop abruptly, in surprise if nothing else, Gabriel clicked his fingers together so the sound would follow him to his next attempt.


End file.
